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 Kiribati and from Mumbai.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Crooked Eye to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Lynne 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suburban Knight record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
The Mojo Men,
B.T. Express,
Joensuu 1685,
Easy Going,
Slave,
Rekid,
Bobby Byrd,
Main Source,
Chrome,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Spandau Ballet,
The Slits,
Chris & Cosey,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ultra Naté,
Brand Nubian,
Little Man,
Bizarre Inc.,
Rosa Yemen,
David Axelrod,
Audionom,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Stiv Bators,
Derrick Morgan,
Fear,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Pretty Things,
Cecil Taylor,
The Buckinghams,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Scientists,
LL Cool J,
Banda Bassotti,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Cramps,
Skriet,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Black Dice,
Bob Dylan,
Nik Kershaw,
Crispy Ambulance,
Infiniti,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Excepter,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Shuggie Otis,
Quadrant,
Frankie Knuckles,
Jesper Dahlback,
Joe Finger,
Shoche,
R.M.O.,
Leonard Cohen,
Y Pants,
Tubeway Army,
Kurtis Blow,
Q and Not U,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Harry Pussy,
Bronski Beat,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.