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 Turkey and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 theremin 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 K-Klass to the dance 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 Bluetip. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Connie Case record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marshall Jefferson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pole,
The Sound,
Jawbox,
The Electric Prunes,
Sarah Menescal,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sexual Harrassment,
Livin' Joy,
Unrelated Segments,
Roxette,
Unwound,
Sun City Girls,
Heaven 17,
The Gladiators,
Pussy Galore,
Don Cherry,
The Gories,
Eric Copeland,
Wolf Eyes,
a-ha,
Drexciya,
The Grass Roots,
Scan 7,
The Golliwogs,
The Happenings,
Infiniti,
Von Mondo,
June of 44,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Connie Case,
Wally Richardson,
Suburban Knight,
One Last Wish,
Cecil Taylor,
Gregory Isaacs,
DJ Sneak,
Kenny Larkin,
The Sisters of Mercy,
A Certain Ratio,
The Moleskins,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bluetip,
R.M.O.,
The American Breed,
Terry Callier,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Blancmange,
Nick Fraelich,
Rites of Spring,
The Last Poets,
Al Stewart,
CMW,
Section 25,
The Dead C,
Andrew Hill,
Ultra Naté,
The Beau Brummels,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.