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 Afghanistan and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 güiro 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Arcadia. All the underground hits.
All Outsiders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sam Rivers,
Motorama,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Shoche,
Boredoms,
The Moody Blues,
Wire,
Yusef Lateef,
Freddie Wadling,
Soft Machine,
Charles Mingus,
Lakeside,
The Raincoats,
Crooked Eye,
Ossler,
ABBA,
Minnie Riperton,
Quadrant,
B.T. Express,
Eric Copeland,
Rapeman,
X-Ray Spex,
Mantronix,
Neil Young,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Cybotron,
Deakin,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Unwound,
U.S. Maple,
The Litter,
Iggy Pop,
DJ Style,
Dual Sessions,
Blossom Toes,
Gang Green,
Wings,
The Invisible,
David Bowie,
The Trojans,
Bob Dylan,
New Order,
The J.B.'s,
Rakim,
Reuben Wilson,
One Last Wish,
Magma,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Robert Görl,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Tres Demented,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Oneida,
The Blackbyrds,
The Zeros,
Kool Moe Dee,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Babytalk,
Das Ding,
Hashim,
The Fall, The Fall, The Fall, The Fall.
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.