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 Afghanistan and from Calgary.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 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 Magma to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Fania All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Half Japanese tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skaos 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 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joe Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Davy DMX,
Loose Ends,
The Flesh Eaters,
Brass Construction,
Visage,
Roger Hodgson,
Bob Dylan,
Chris Corsano,
Tim Buckley,
The Dead C,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Flamin' Groovies,
Pussy Galore,
Accadde A,
L. Decosne,
The Techniques,
Susan Cadogan,
D'Angelo,
The J.B.'s,
The Alarm Clocks,
the Swans,
Zapp,
Quando Quango,
Marmalade,
Gang Green,
Deakin,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sandy B,
Al Stewart,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Can,
The Tremeloes,
Masters at Work,
Grandmaster Flash,
Stockholm Monsters,
Robert Görl,
Chris & Cosey,
Rufus Thomas,
The Moleskins,
Erykah Badu,
48th St. Collective,
CMW,
Charles Mingus,
Cymande,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sun Ra,
Soul Sonic Force,
Sound Behaviour,
Alphaville,
E-Dancer,
One Last Wish,
The Fuzztones,
Glenn Branca,
Negative Approach,
Minutemen,
Pet Shop Boys,
Fort Wilson Riot,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The American Breed,
Maurizio,
F. McDonald,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.