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 Saudi Arabia and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 marimba 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 Eddi Front to the techno 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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grey Daturas,
The Toasters,
Angry Samoans,
Ken Boothe,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Lalann,
Deepchord,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Scratch Acid,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Niagra,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Residents,
the Association,
Youth Brigade,
The Smiths,
Goldenarms,
MC5,
Nik Kershaw,
Sällskapet,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lyres,
Eric Copeland,
E-Dancer,
The Litter,
Alison Limerick,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Soft Cell,
Whodini,
Prince Buster,
The Dirtbombs,
Leonard Cohen,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Names,
Cybotron,
Bobby Sherman,
X-102,
The Gladiators,
Royal Trux,
DJ Sneak,
Pierre Henry,
Supertramp,
Frankie Knuckles,
Wolf Eyes,
Skriet,
Y Pants,
Khruangbin,
Todd Rundgren,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sam Rivers,
Barbara Tucker,
James White and The Blacks,
ABC,
Man Eating Sloth,
F. McDonald,
Chris Corsano,
Hashim,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.