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 Finland and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 Lyon and Sao Paulo.
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 güiro 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Cheater Slicks. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Infiniti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Country Joe & The Fish,
Al Stewart,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Idris Muhammad,
Ultra Naté,
Barbara Tucker,
Supertramp,
Joy Division,
The Stooges,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Aural Exciters,
Marine Girls,
B.T. Express,
The Offenders,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Gang Gang Dance,
China Crisis,
Rufus Thomas,
Tres Demented,
The Pretty Things,
Mr. Review,
Maleditus Sound,
Soul II Soul,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Hashim,
The J.B.'s,
The Litter,
The Dead C,
Stockholm Monsters,
Lalann,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eric Copeland,
Cecil Taylor,
L. Decosne,
Malaria!,
Henry Cow,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Ultimate Spinach,
Pharoah Sanders,
Whodini,
A Certain Ratio,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Oblivians,
Darondo,
Eve St. Jones,
Cymande,
Charles Mingus,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bush Tetras,
Sex Pistols,
Bootsy Collins,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Leonard Cohen,
Echospace,
Marvin Gaye,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Donny Hathaway,
Erasure,
Youth Brigade,
Jandek, Jandek, Jandek, Jandek.
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.