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 Russia and from Tehran.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Manchester.
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 rhodes 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 Gregory Isaacs to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
The Sound,
Bootsy Collins,
John Coltrane,
The Stooges,
Rekid,
Symarip,
Marvin Gaye,
Bluetip,
Lou Reed,
Soul II Soul,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lyres,
CMW,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Yellowson,
The Pop Group,
Camberwell Now,
John Cale,
Buzzcocks,
Jeff Lynne,
Excepter,
The Beau Brummels,
Television Personalities,
Pylon,
Clear Light,
The United States of America,
The Offenders,
Jerry's Kids,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Tomorrow,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
JFA,
The American Breed,
The Sonics,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Raincoats,
June of 44,
Darondo,
Negative Approach,
Bobby Byrd,
Rapeman,
Steve Hackett,
Neil Young,
Sam Rivers,
John Foxx,
Joe Finger,
the Normal,
Hot Snakes,
Rakim,
Crime,
Albert Ayler,
D'Angelo,
Eve St. Jones,
Heaven 17,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
K-Klass,
Archie Shepp,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kas Product,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Bill Near,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.