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 Somalia and from Mumbai.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 organ 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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Mighty Diamonds. All the underground hits.
All The Monochrome Set tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Franke 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Visage,
Blossom Toes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Jeff Mills,
Q and Not U,
Q65,
The Sound,
Dave Gahan,
cv313,
The Index,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Gories,
Man Eating Sloth,
Grandmaster Flash,
Black Sheep,
Mr. Review,
Eric Copeland,
Gang Starr,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
MDC,
Tommy Roe,
The Smoke,
Joey Negro,
Sister Nancy,
ABC,
Rosa Yemen,
Pantaleimon,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
LL Cool J,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Charles Mingus,
Technova,
Vladislav Delay,
Sugar Minott,
X-Ray Spex,
Average White Band,
The Leaves,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Albert Ayler,
Quando Quango,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Wake,
The Saints,
Animal Collective,
Anthony Braxton,
Steve Hackett,
H. Thieme,
The Slackers,
Girls At Our Best!,
World's Most,
Mandrill,
The Electric Prunes,
Interpol,
Roxette,
The Fortunes,
Bill Near,
Connie Case,
Prince Buster,
Soft Machine,
Lucky Dragons,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.