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 Ethiopia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 rock 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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lalo Schifrin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zero Boys,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Shoche,
Q65,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Motions,
Drexciya,
The Busters,
UT,
Danielle Patucci,
Roxy Music,
Roxette,
Marcia Griffiths,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Rekid,
Bill Wells,
Ultravox,
Man Parrish,
Procol Harum,
Michelle Simonal,
Piero Umiliani,
Jimmy McGriff,
Isaac Hayes,
The Kinks,
The Cowsills,
Talk Talk,
Crooked Eye,
F. McDonald,
the Human League,
The Fall,
Massinfluence,
Scott Walker,
The Wake,
Black Sheep,
Gang Starr,
The Selecter,
Rod Modell,
Pere Ubu,
Section 25,
New Age Steppers,
Masters at Work,
Ornette Coleman,
Adolescents,
Hasil Adkins,
Lee Hazlewood,
Public Enemy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Flamin' Groovies,
Harmonia,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Little Man,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Sonny Sharrock,
Lyres,
Con Funk Shun,
Mr. Review,
Dennis Brown,
Boredoms,
Bobby Womack,
Matthew Halsall,
Circle Jerks,
Tropical Tobacco,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.