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 Zimbabwe and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 David Bowie to the rock 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All The Real Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
Eden Ahbez,
Donald Byrd,
Davy DMX,
Sex Pistols,
Sly & The Family Stone,
ABC,
Ohio Players,
Gang Starr,
Eddi Front,
Black Moon,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bootsy Collins,
Minor Threat,
Pet Shop Boys,
Pere Ubu,
Technova,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Lalo Schifrin,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Cowsills,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rotary Connection,
Urselle,
DJ Sneak,
The Martian,
Los Fastidios,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Last Poets,
Japan,
Qualms,
Brand Nubian,
Zero Boys,
48th St. Collective,
Nation of Ulysses,
DNA,
Gabor Szabo,
Scion,
Ronnie Foster,
Fluxion,
Little Man,
Stiv Bators,
Erykah Badu,
The J.B.'s,
Albert Ayler,
Eli Mardock,
Warsaw,
Eric Dolphy,
Fugazi,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lou Christie,
Ituana,
The Mojo Men,
Popol Vuh,
Das Ding,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Dave Clark Five,
Rod Modell,
Gichy Dan,
Neu!,
Pylon,
Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed.
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.