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 Korea South and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the crunk 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 The Blackbyrds. All the underground hits.
All Gichy Dan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cowsills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sound,
Blake Baxter,
The American Breed,
The Happenings,
Radiopuhelimet,
Curtis Mayfield,
Robert Görl,
Crooked Eye,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
F. McDonald,
Eve St. Jones,
The Motions,
Scan 7,
Mars,
Danielle Patucci,
Moebius,
Siglo XX,
Blossom Toes,
Neu!,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Wolf Eyes,
Magma,
The Mojo Men,
Flamin' Groovies,
Jacques Brel,
Cameo,
DJ Style,
Boogie Down Productions,
Agent Orange,
Con Funk Shun,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Icehouse,
Delta 5,
Scion,
In Retrospect,
Ponytail,
Warren Ellis,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sonic Youth,
X-101,
Agitation Free,
Susan Cadogan,
Nik Kershaw,
Electric Prunes,
Buzzcocks,
Trumans Water,
Sun Ra,
Von Mondo,
Mad Mike,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Eli Mardock,
Pole,
Monolake,
Pussy Galore,
Quadrant,
Tomorrow,
Steve Hackett,
Hot Snakes,
Minnie Riperton,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.