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 Swaziland and from Calgary.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 synthesizer 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 Gichy Dan to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Gichy Dan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gap Band 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Juan Atkins,
Andrew Hill,
Sam Rivers,
the Germs,
Porter Ricks,
June of 44,
Pere Ubu,
Minny Pops,
Section 25,
X-101,
LL Cool J,
Joe Smooth,
The Sound,
Matthew Bourne,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Wake,
The Dirtbombs,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ossler,
Johnny Clarke,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Cymande,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Young Rascals,
James White and The Blacks,
Sandy B,
The Golliwogs,
Eric Copeland,
Thee Headcoats,
Vladislav Delay,
cv313,
Mars,
Scratch Acid,
The Happenings,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
the Normal,
Darondo,
Jeff Mills,
Man Parrish,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Q and Not U,
Laurel Aitken,
Neu!,
Bad Manners,
Iggy Pop,
Donald Byrd,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Barrington Levy,
Tropical Tobacco,
Scott Walker,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Misunderstood,
Easy Going,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Rosa Yemen,
Pet Shop Boys,
Reagan Youth,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Metal Thangz,
Black Sheep,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Accadde A,
The Mummies,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.