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 Germany and from Paris.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Yusef Lateef to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hashim,
Susan Cadogan,
The Martian,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Make Up,
Blossom Toes,
Liliput,
T. Rex,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Cymande,
The American Breed,
Black Pus,
Warren Ellis,
Fat Boys,
The Searchers,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
These Immortal Souls,
The Knickerbockers,
Duran Duran,
Yaz,
Henry Cow,
Soft Machine,
Moebius,
The Busters,
Nation of Ulysses,
Marvin Gaye,
The Count Five,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
KRS-One,
Roy Ayers,
the Germs,
Public Image Ltd.,
Albert Ayler,
Nils Olav,
Siglo XX,
Joe Finger,
Stetsasonic,
Eric B and Rakim,
James White and The Blacks,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Camouflage,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Fela Kuti,
the Soft Cell,
Mary Jane Girls,
Fear,
Wings,
Ultravox,
Talk Talk,
Tim Buckley,
Echospace,
Fugazi,
The Velvet Underground,
the Swans,
Average White Band,
Lower 48,
Radiopuhelimet,
Deadbeat,
Joensuu 1685,
Gabor Szabo,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.