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 Mongolia and from Bremen.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 spring reverb 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 Sonny Sharrock 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 Marmalade. All the underground hits.
All The Cowsills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Techniques 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Curtis Mayfield,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Blackbyrds,
Lucky Dragons,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Matthew Halsall,
The Durutti Column,
F. McDonald,
Jesper Dahlback,
Black Moon,
Ultimate Spinach,
Magma,
Warren Ellis,
Lou Reed,
Organ,
The Residents,
Sight & Sound,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Eric B and Rakim,
Skaos,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Marvin Gaye,
Bad Manners,
Suicide,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
These Immortal Souls,
Tears for Fears,
T.S.O.L.,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kool Moe Dee,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Wasted Youth,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Fela Kuti,
Newcleus,
Electric Prunes,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
8 Eyed Spy,
La Düsseldorf,
Chris Corsano,
James White and The Blacks,
Glambeats Corp.,
Lakeside,
PIL,
Jimmy McGriff,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sexual Harrassment,
E-Dancer,
Funky Four + One,
The Black Dice,
Dawn Penn,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bush Tetras,
Joe Finger,
Michelle Simonal,
Nik Kershaw,
Interpol,
Arthur Verocai,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Suburban Knight,
Skriet,
Radiohead,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.