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 Kyrgyzstan and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Japan to the funk 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 Tropical Tobacco. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantytec,
Cluster,
Thee Headcoats,
Ossler,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Sound,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ultravox,
Wire,
Radiopuhelimet,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Divine Comedy,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Freddie Wadling,
The Beau Brummels,
Interpol,
Cameo,
E-Dancer,
Q65,
Nico,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Laurel Aitken,
Suicide,
Arcadia,
Section 25,
Bill Near,
Sam Rivers,
Make Up,
Deadbeat,
The Sonics,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pole,
The Kinks,
The Real Kids,
Beasts of Bourbon,
the Swans,
World's Most,
Pagans,
Infiniti,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Alarm Clocks,
Scion,
Roy Ayers,
Technova,
The Red Krayola,
Arab on Radar,
Carl Craig,
FM Einheit,
Ronnie Foster,
The Remains,
Basic Channel,
Neil Young,
the Germs,
Slick Rick,
The Moleskins,
Avey Tare,
Tropical Tobacco,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.