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 South Sudan and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 D'Angelo to the techno 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 Stiv Bators. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DeepChord presents Echospace record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fela Kuti,
Wasted Youth,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ten City,
D'Angelo,
Gerry Rafferty,
T. Rex,
Flash Fearless,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Depeche Mode,
LL Cool J,
Zero Boys,
Technova,
Davy DMX,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Cymande,
The Standells,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pere Ubu,
Pantaleimon,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Popol Vuh,
Subhumans,
Angry Samoans,
Ken Boothe,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Curtis Mayfield,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
John Holt,
The Moody Blues,
The Flesh Eaters,
Aaron Thompson,
Duran Duran,
Mary Jane Girls,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Skaos,
Cluster,
Minnie Riperton,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bobbi Humphrey,
R.M.O.,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
H. Thieme,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Star Department,
Sparks,
In Retrospect,
ABC,
Khruangbin,
Thompson Twins,
Easy Going,
the Association,
Severed Heads,
Harpers Bizarre,
Porter Ricks,
The Techniques,
Glambeats Corp.,
Glenn Branca,
F. McDonald,
Slick Rick,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Graham Central Station,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Shoche, Shoche, Shoche, Shoche.
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.