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 Malawi 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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Fela Kuti to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Drive Like Jehu. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlback tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Knickerbockers,
Little Man,
Donny Hathaway,
Maleditus Sound,
Severed Heads,
Cheater Slicks,
Hardrive,
New York Dolls,
The Vogues,
Nas,
Radiopuhelimet,
Das Ding,
The Flesh Eaters,
Robert Hood,
Popol Vuh,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Pierre Henry,
Bluetip,
Gong,
The Red Krayola,
Jawbox,
Nick Fraelich,
Moss Icon,
Morten Harket,
The Neon Judgement,
Harpers Bizarre,
Franke,
Malaria!,
Model 500,
Tomorrow,
the Bar-Kays,
It's A Beautiful Day,
DJ Sneak,
Aloha Tigers,
Ten City,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Barracudas,
Brass Construction,
Stiv Bators,
Pylon,
Blancmange,
David McCallum,
The Litter,
Girls At Our Best!,
Carl Craig,
The United States of America,
Second Layer,
Ultimate Spinach,
Silicon Teens,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Colin Newman,
Al Stewart,
Lightning Bolt,
Kool Moe Dee,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Durutti Column,
Bronski Beat,
Lungfish,
Young Marble Giants,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.