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 Nauru and from Johannesburg.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Michael McDonald 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 Pharoah Sanders to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Rhythim Is Rhythim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ornette Coleman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Enemy,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Absolute Body Control,
the Sonics,
The Count Five,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Monks,
Siglo XX,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
PIL,
The Litter,
a-ha,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Make Up,
Josef K,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Jawbox,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Mummies,
Shoche,
Davy DMX,
Magazine,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Hardrive,
Black Pus,
Jacob Miller,
Y Pants,
Vainqueur,
Rod Modell,
The Smiths,
Ultravox,
Barrington Levy,
Man Eating Sloth,
Anthony Braxton,
Jesper Dahlback,
Kerri Chandler,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Saints,
The Skatalites,
the Fania All-Stars,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sight & Sound,
Surgeon,
The Durutti Column,
Gastr Del Sol,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Blues Magoos,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Theoretical Girls,
Section 25,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
X-Ray Spex,
The Happenings,
Franke,
Sonic Youth,
Donald Byrd,
DJ Style,
Boz Scaggs,
Jeff Mills,
Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav.
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.