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 Armenia and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 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 Wolf Eyes to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All La Düsseldorf tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a L. Decosne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
Faust,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Last Poets,
Rotary Connection,
Black Moon,
Bill Wells,
Television Personalities,
Gregory Isaacs,
Guru Guru,
The Dirtbombs,
Clear Light,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Country Teasers,
Deepchord,
Chrome,
Al Stewart,
Marshall Jefferson,
Mantronix,
Black Sheep,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Duran Duran,
The Buckinghams,
Hoover,
The Gladiators,
The Cowsills,
Pantaleimon,
Dark Day,
Joey Negro,
Groovy Waters,
The Birthday Party,
the Slits,
The Mummies,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Flash Fearless,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Saints,
A Certain Ratio,
The Five Americans,
the Fania All-Stars,
These Immortal Souls,
Throbbing Gristle,
Kayak,
Scan 7,
Wings,
Minutemen,
Panda Bear,
Q and Not U,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The American Breed,
John Holt,
Flamin' Groovies,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sun Ra,
Visage,
Nirvana,
K-Klass,
the Germs,
Todd Terry,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.