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 Lesotho and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band 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 Rod Modell. All the underground hits.
All Laurel Aitken tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Zero Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott Heron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
a-ha,
Hoover,
Scrapy,
Neu!,
The Slackers,
The Alarm Clocks,
DJ Sneak,
Suicide,
Minutemen,
Max Romeo,
Magma,
Ultravox,
Joy Division,
Bauhaus,
Joey Negro,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rod Modell,
Spoonie Gee,
The J.B.'s,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gang of Four,
Stereo Dub,
Roxette,
Liliput,
Harpers Bizarre,
Essential Logic,
Laurel Aitken,
Mark Hollis,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Frankie Knuckles,
Parry Music,
Derrick Morgan,
Black Bananas,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Knickerbockers,
Patti Smith,
Q65,
New York Dolls,
Vainqueur,
Yaz,
The Invisible,
Minnie Riperton,
The Divine Comedy,
The Monks,
The Barracudas,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bobby Womack,
Steve Hackett,
Don Cherry,
Kevin Saunderson,
Kayak,
Barclay James Harvest,
Camberwell Now,
D'Angelo,
Bronski Beat,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Godley & Creme,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Morten Harket,
The United States of America,
Porter Ricks,
Alice Coltrane,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.