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 Cameroon and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 linndrum 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 DeepChord presents Echospace to the techno 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 Smiths. All the underground hits.
All Roger Hodgson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scion 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bush Tetras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lindisfarne,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Walker Brothers,
Lower 48,
Fluxion,
Mars,
Soul II Soul,
Crispian St. Peters,
Suicide,
Ken Boothe,
Neu!,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Victims,
Royal Trux,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Harry Pussy,
The Angels of Light,
Easy Going,
Malaria!,
Brothers Johnson,
Tommy Roe,
Yellowson,
The Fortunes,
Alton Ellis,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Trojans,
Marmalade,
Electric Prunes,
Bill Near,
Connie Case,
Q65,
Soulsonic Force,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The J.B.'s,
Marine Girls,
Jeff Mills,
The Kinks,
UT,
Carl Craig,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Sonics,
Monks,
the Slits,
Agent Orange,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
U.S. Maple,
Shoche,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Alarm Clocks,
Circle Jerks,
Nirvana,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Don Cherry,
Yusef Lateef,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lungfish,
DNA,
Aswad,
Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music.
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.