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 Papua New Guinea and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Slick Rick to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Slave. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacques Brel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Buckinghams,
Pussy Galore,
B.T. Express,
The Trojans,
Au Pairs,
the Swans,
Erasure,
Blake Baxter,
Joensuu 1685,
Royal Trux,
Masters at Work,
New York Dolls,
Maurizio,
Flipper,
The Monochrome Set,
Pharoah Sanders,
John Lydon,
The Selecter,
Black Bananas,
Prince Buster,
Gang Green,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Vladislav Delay,
Amon Düül II,
Sun City Girls,
Camouflage,
Ituana,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Howard Jones,
Radiopuhelimet,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bobby Sherman,
the Soft Cell,
Sexual Harrassment,
Quantec,
Tomorrow,
The Mojo Men,
The Evens,
The Residents,
Metal Thangz,
Eyeless In Gaza,
DNA,
Swans,
Sight & Sound,
Scratch Acid,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ludus,
Intrusion,
Faraquet,
KRS-One,
Nico,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gabor Szabo,
Aswad,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Thompson Twins,
The Smiths,
The Flesh Eaters,
Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich.
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.