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 Djibouti and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Evens to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Marshall Jefferson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Susan Cadogan 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
The Moody Blues,
Todd Rundgren,
The Index,
The Fall,
Minor Threat,
the Swans,
Chris Corsano,
Grandmaster Flash,
Outsiders,
The Dave Clark Five,
kango's stein massive,
Unwound,
Jacques Brel,
Depeche Mode,
The Moleskins,
Boz Scaggs,
Crooked Eye,
Nick Fraelich,
Blake Baxter,
The Grass Roots,
The Cure,
Eden Ahbez,
L. Decosne,
The Dirtbombs,
Ken Boothe,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Albert Ayler,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Cal Tjader,
the Sonics,
The New Christs,
Alison Limerick,
Kaleidoscope,
Johnny Clarke,
Boogie Down Productions,
Royal Trux,
Sällskapet,
Sight & Sound,
Mo-Dettes,
Delta 5,
The Doobie Brothers,
Kerri Chandler,
Glambeats Corp.,
Interpol,
The Golliwogs,
Cecil Taylor,
Groovy Waters,
Schoolly D,
X-101,
Bobby Hutcherson,
PIL,
Basic Channel,
Byron Stingily,
Monolake,
Erasure,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Intrusion,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.