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 St Lucia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 theremin 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 Panda Bear to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Can. All the underground hits.
All Kerri Chandler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DNA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
Cecil Taylor,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Misunderstood,
Rekid,
The Blues Magoos,
Ultra Naté,
Crooked Eye,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Underground Resistance,
The Victims,
Niagra,
X-Ray Spex,
X-102,
Iggy Pop,
The Techniques,
The Dead C,
DJ Sneak,
The Toasters,
Subhumans,
Sugar Minott,
Dawn Penn,
Crispy Ambulance,
Symarip,
Ten City,
The Moleskins,
Deadbeat,
Malaria!,
The Stooges,
Neu!,
Surgeon,
Zapp,
Henry Cow,
Johnny Osbourne,
Isaac Hayes,
Electric Prunes,
Jacques Brel,
Shuggie Otis,
Silicon Teens,
the Germs,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Red Krayola,
Marine Girls,
Camouflage,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Donny Hathaway,
Monks,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Mission of Burma,
Godley & Creme,
The Doobie Brothers,
Morten Harket,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Monolake,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Litter,
Arthur Verocai,
Pierre Henry,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Mr. Review,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.