Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Malawi and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Laurel Aitken to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All Todd Terry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Happenings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
the Association,
The Kinks,
Shuggie Otis,
Drive Like Jehu,
Man Eating Sloth,
ABBA,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Visage,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pantaleimon,
The Slits,
Nick Fraelich,
Aural Exciters,
Joyce Sims,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Donald Byrd,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Harry Pussy,
Oblivians,
Sex Pistols,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Cameo,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bootsy Collins,
The Fall,
Suburban Knight,
The Selecter,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Dorothy Ashby,
T. Rex,
Man Parrish,
Jawbox,
A Certain Ratio,
Rapeman,
Bobby Byrd,
Pierre Henry,
Sixth Finger,
New Age Steppers,
Robert Wyatt,
Icehouse,
John Holt,
Flamin' Groovies,
Jeff Mills,
the Bar-Kays,
Wings,
Pere Ubu,
The Count Five,
Dennis Brown,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Kerri Chandler,
Isaac Hayes,
Crime,
Grandmaster Flash,
Minor Threat,
The Leaves,
Saccharine Trust,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.