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 Cameroon and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and New York.
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 clarinet 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Camberwell Now. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donny Hathaway record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar 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 snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Zeros,
Pantytec,
X-101,
Darondo,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Duran Duran,
Main Source,
Piero Umiliani,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Detroit Cobras,
Moby Grape,
Mars,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Swell Maps,
Tears for Fears,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Knickerbockers,
The Cure,
AZ,
Kool Moe Dee,
CMW,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
cv313,
EPMD,
Ultimate Spinach,
Marvin Gaye,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Electric Prunes,
Brick,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Arthur Verocai,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Martian,
Iggy Pop,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Dirtbombs,
The Remains,
Half Japanese,
Public Image Ltd.,
Loose Ends,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Charles Mingus,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Hardrive,
Blancmange,
Barry Ungar,
Organ,
Robert Wyatt,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Star Department,
Mo-Dettes,
Lightning Bolt,
In Retrospect,
Amon Düül II,
Hoover,
Todd Rundgren,
Pulsallama,
The Moody Blues,
Dual Sessions,
Wire,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.