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 Tanzania and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Holger Czukay 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 Ludus to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 X-101. All the underground hits.
All Boogie Down Productions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flash Fearless record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Rapeman,
The Divine Comedy,
T.S.O.L.,
This Heat,
CMW,
Black Bananas,
David McCallum,
Jawbox,
H. Thieme,
The Index,
Henry Cow,
Gil Scott Heron,
Agent Orange,
F. McDonald,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Fear,
Ice-T,
Scott Walker,
The Fall,
Kerri Chandler,
kango's stein massive,
The Vogues,
Tomorrow,
Warsaw,
Idris Muhammad,
Pere Ubu,
JFA,
The Sound,
The Litter,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sparks,
Porter Ricks,
Ultra Naté,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sandy B,
Joey Negro,
Ken Boothe,
Guru Guru,
The Golliwogs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Dirtbombs,
Donald Byrd,
Basic Channel,
Q65,
Vainqueur,
The Last Poets,
Jeff Lynne,
Thee Headcoats,
Boogie Down Productions,
Section 25,
X-101,
Pulsallama,
Mr. Review,
Stereo Dub,
The Cramps,
Lebanon Hanover,
Von Mondo,
Duran Duran,
Quantec,
Reagan Youth, Reagan Youth, Reagan Youth, Reagan Youth.
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.