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 Mozambique and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Barclay James Harvest to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bar-Kays. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gong 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tears for Fears record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scientists,
The American Breed,
Susan Cadogan,
The Black Dice,
Black Sheep,
The Modern Lovers,
X-Ray Spex,
The Standells,
X-102,
The Fall,
Pylon,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Monks,
Joensuu 1685,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Lyres,
Moebius,
The Doors,
One Last Wish,
Absolute Body Control,
Public Image Ltd.,
Public Enemy,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Residents,
Man Eating Sloth,
Archie Shepp,
Sugar Minott,
The Kinks,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bronski Beat,
Can,
The Beau Brummels,
The Moleskins,
DNA,
Erykah Badu,
The Misunderstood,
Morten Harket,
Peter & Gordon,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Moby Grape,
Gil Scott Heron,
Livin' Joy,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
La Düsseldorf,
Cymande,
Wasted Youth,
Ronan,
Aural Exciters,
Soulsonic Force,
Kerri Chandler,
Toni Rubio,
Duran Duran,
48th St. Collective,
Talk Talk,
Dennis Brown,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bauhaus,
Cheater Slicks,
Joe Smooth,
David Bowie,
Traffic Nightmare,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.