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 Jamaica and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 organ 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 F. McDonald to the disco 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 Nils Olav. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Buzzcocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terror Squad Feat. Camron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sandy B,
The Motions,
Ohio Players,
Max Romeo,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Donald Byrd,
Gil Scott Heron,
Television,
Ituana,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Rosa Yemen,
Black Pus,
Albert Ayler,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bobby Sherman,
Eli Mardock,
Ossler,
Dawn Penn,
Neil Young,
The Moody Blues,
Mission of Burma,
Radiopuhelimet,
Derrick May,
KRS-One,
Arthur Verocai,
D'Angelo,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Connie Case,
Q65,
Henry Cow,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Crime,
Yazoo,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Buzzcocks,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Minor Threat,
Eden Ahbez,
The Durutti Column,
Depeche Mode,
Soul II Soul,
The Monks,
John Coltrane,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
James White and The Blacks,
Pussy Galore,
The Happenings,
Arcadia,
Clear Light,
Donny Hathaway,
The Techniques,
Arab on Radar,
John Holt,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
New Order,
Colin Newman,
The American Breed,
Joe Smooth,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Roy Ayers,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
MDC, MDC, MDC, MDC.
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.