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 Vanuatu and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Paris.
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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Talk Talk to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Technova. All the underground hits.
All Motorama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco 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 sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Residents,
Gang Green,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
X-102,
Cluster,
Half Japanese,
Ultimate Spinach,
X-101,
Interpol,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Lindisfarne,
Oneida,
Rosa Yemen,
Zero Boys,
Fela Kuti,
Hot Snakes,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Joy Division,
Stockholm Monsters,
Qualms,
Pharoah Sanders,
Newcleus,
Second Layer,
John Coltrane,
The Music Machine,
Derrick May,
Theoretical Girls,
Prince Buster,
Public Image Ltd.,
Minnie Riperton,
Man Parrish,
48th St. Collective,
Scientists,
The Dirtbombs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Brand Nubian,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Harmonia,
Nas,
Black Sheep,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Funky Four + One,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
David McCallum,
Jacques Brel,
Traffic Nightmare,
Marcia Griffiths,
Intrusion,
Absolute Body Control,
Harpers Bizarre,
Johnny Osbourne,
Thompson Twins,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Cramps,
Flipper,
Wings,
Lou Reed,
Infiniti,
Warsaw,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
10cc,
David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie.
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.