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 Tunisia and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 808 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 The Alarm Clocks to the rap 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Dennis Brown tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Easy Going 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba 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?
Radiopuhelimet,
Agitation Free,
Pussy Galore,
Ponytail,
Quadrant,
Radio Birdman,
The Searchers,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Charles Mingus,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Blancmange,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Kenny Larkin,
48th St. Collective,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
ABBA,
Desert Stars,
Morten Harket,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Monks,
Barbara Tucker,
Marine Girls,
Ohio Players,
Shoche,
Toni Rubio,
Franke,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Terry Callier,
Donald Byrd,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bobby Sherman,
John Coltrane,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ken Boothe,
H. Thieme,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
the Fania All-Stars,
Amazonics,
Connie Case,
Susan Cadogan,
the Soft Cell,
the Bar-Kays,
The Techniques,
The Alarm Clocks,
Yellowson,
Jeff Lynne,
Slick Rick,
the Slits,
Lalann,
The Smoke,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Scientists,
Malaria!,
Carl Craig,
Henry Cow,
X-102,
Parry Music,
Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound.
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.