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 Bahamas and from Lille.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Gerry Rafferty to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Cybotron. All the underground hits.
All Saccharine Trust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anthony Braxton,
Terry Callier,
Second Layer,
Clear Light,
Supertramp,
Jesper Dahlback,
Underground Resistance,
Don Cherry,
Althea and Donna,
Sugar Minott,
Bush Tetras,
Lebanon Hanover,
Liliput,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Monochrome Set,
Tres Demented,
Swell Maps,
Carl Craig,
The Black Dice,
Television,
Amazonics,
The Fuzztones,
X-Ray Spex,
The Toasters,
Marcia Griffiths,
Y Pants,
Fear,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sexual Harrassment,
Slave,
Marmalade,
MDC,
Fugazi,
Nas,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Lakeside,
The Detroit Cobras,
Black Moon,
Radio Birdman,
Alice Coltrane,
Sam Rivers,
Faraquet,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Moody Blues,
Livin' Joy,
the Slits,
Brothers Johnson,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Sonics,
The Fire Engines,
UT,
Rekid,
The Remains,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tubeway Army,
The Cowsills,
Al Stewart,
Darondo,
Johnny Clarke,
Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies.
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.