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 Zambia and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Radio Birdman to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joy Division,
The Wake,
Unwound,
Ituana,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Fat Boys,
the Slits,
Robert Wyatt,
Bush Tetras,
Massinfluence,
The Shadows of Knight,
Intrusion,
Tears for Fears,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tropical Tobacco,
The American Breed,
DJ Style,
Silicon Teens,
T. Rex,
Severed Heads,
Sex Pistols,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Moody Blues,
Traffic Nightmare,
Quadrant,
Barry Ungar,
Section 25,
Banda Bassotti,
Marcia Griffiths,
Popol Vuh,
Pole,
Pagans,
Faraquet,
Piero Umiliani,
Barbara Tucker,
Average White Band,
Matthew Halsall,
Eddi Front,
Grey Daturas,
The Slackers,
ABBA,
Man Parrish,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Interpol,
a-ha,
Fela Kuti,
Eric Dolphy,
Freddie Wadling,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bob Dylan,
the Bar-Kays,
Dual Sessions,
Main Source,
UT,
Jesper Dahlback,
KRS-One,
Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler.
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.