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 Sudan and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Camouflage to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Lalo Schifrin. All the underground hits.
All Arab on Radar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thee Headcoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gong,
Black Sheep,
The Last Poets,
The Pop Group,
Shoche,
Mars,
Maurizio,
DNA,
A Certain Ratio,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Litter,
Visage,
Rapeman,
the Association,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Pulsallama,
Lebanon Hanover,
Technova,
Soul II Soul,
Glambeats Corp.,
Tom Boy,
The Walker Brothers,
Hoover,
Das Ding,
Chris & Cosey,
Cybotron,
Radiohead,
The American Breed,
Excepter,
The Monochrome Set,
Joe Smooth,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Cowsills,
48th St. Collective,
The Gladiators,
a-ha,
Funkadelic,
F. McDonald,
Porter Ricks,
Marvin Gaye,
Boz Scaggs,
Royal Trux,
Stetsasonic,
Loose Ends,
Average White Band,
8 Eyed Spy,
Oblivians,
Saccharine Trust,
Don Cherry,
David Bowie,
Barry Ungar,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Surgeon,
Danielle Patucci,
Chris Corsano,
Letta Mbulu,
Rotary Connection,
Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler.
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.