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 Nigeria and from Madrid.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 arpeggiator 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 Flash Fearless to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Saccharine Trust. All the underground hits.
All The Vogues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sarah Menescal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cecil Taylor,
U.S. Maple,
The Shadows of Knight,
X-Ray Spex,
Chrome,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
James White and The Blacks,
Q and Not U,
New York Dolls,
T.S.O.L.,
Mo-Dettes,
Archie Shepp,
The Pop Group,
Amon Düül II,
Morten Harket,
The Move,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Moby Grape,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Matthew Bourne,
Wolf Eyes,
Oblivians,
Gong,
In Retrospect,
Arthur Verocai,
Todd Terry,
The Leaves,
Masters at Work,
Kerri Chandler,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Simply Red,
Technova,
Gastr Del Sol,
Trumans Water,
Echospace,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Cymande,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Idris Muhammad,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Fugazi,
The Cramps,
Suburban Knight,
Mantronix,
Cluster,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Mandrill,
Man Parrish,
Scion,
Radiopuhelimet,
Malaria!,
CMW,
Bootsy Collins,
The Victims,
the Sonics,
The Velvet Underground,
Erasure,
Unwound,
John Lydon,
Model 500,
Jeff Lynne,
Eli Mardock,
Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson.
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.