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 Nicaragua and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 arpeggiator 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 Ituana to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Leonard Cohen. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marmalade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Theoretical Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The United States of America,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Make Up,
The Fire Engines,
Depeche Mode,
The Last Poets,
Echospace,
Donald Byrd,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
H. Thieme,
the Normal,
Young Marble Giants,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Grandmaster Flash,
Scrapy,
U.S. Maple,
Marc Almond,
Barrington Levy,
Dead Boys,
Masters at Work,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Blossom Toes,
Dave Gahan,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Smog,
Roy Ayers,
Lucky Dragons,
The Mojo Men,
Subhumans,
Michelle Simonal,
Drexciya,
Al Stewart,
The Fugs,
Pulsallama,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Khruangbin,
Oblivians,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Television,
Niagra,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Connie Case,
Lungfish,
Hot Snakes,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Delon & Dalcan,
Clear Light,
Newcleus,
K-Klass,
Althea and Donna,
Kevin Saunderson,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Skatalites,
Organ,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Pantytec,
Deepchord,
Curtis Mayfield,
Rhythm & Sound,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.