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 Singapore and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 Holger Czukay 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 Big Daddy Kane to the dance 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 Rufus Thomas. All the underground hits.
All Barry Ungar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a K-Klass record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ossler,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Marcia Griffiths,
AZ,
OOIOO,
Robert Hood,
The Gladiators,
The Litter,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Blackbyrds,
The Alarm Clocks,
U.S. Maple,
The Black Dice,
Junior Murvin,
Rhythm & Sound,
Girls At Our Best!,
Tears for Fears,
The Fugs,
The Sonics,
Ohio Players,
Sonny Sharrock,
Black Sheep,
Sound Behaviour,
Ronan,
The Gap Band,
The Shadows of Knight,
Toni Rubio,
Faust,
Max Romeo,
Wire,
The Gories,
Yellowson,
Chrome,
Lou Reed,
Crime,
Bill Wells,
Anakelly,
Infiniti,
The Buckinghams,
Jawbox,
Jacques Brel,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Newcleus,
Livin' Joy,
Grauzone,
The Young Rascals,
Sonic Youth,
Amon Düül,
Excepter,
DJ Style,
John Holt,
Minnie Riperton,
Ice-T,
The Moody Blues,
Maleditus Sound,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.