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 Cape Verde and from Lyon.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Buckinghams to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minnie Riperton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pretty Things,
Toni Rubio,
Symarip,
Tom Boy,
The Young Rascals,
The Misunderstood,
Skriet,
Sister Nancy,
Jandek,
The Moody Blues,
Ten City,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sandy B,
Flipper,
The Birthday Party,
Lalo Schifrin,
Amazonics,
Mark Hollis,
Adolescents,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Kevin Saunderson,
This Heat,
Crash Course in Science,
Robert Görl,
Wolf Eyes,
Kool Moe Dee,
Camberwell Now,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Donald Byrd,
The United States of America,
Basic Channel,
T. Rex,
Brand Nubian,
Derrick May,
Crime,
Fugazi,
Tubeway Army,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Evens,
Gastr Del Sol,
Jesper Dahlback,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
David McCallum,
Boredoms,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Inner City,
The Grass Roots,
Animal Collective,
Kayak,
Bobby Sherman,
David Bowie,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Durutti Column,
Black Sheep,
Pulsallama,
Second Layer,
Matthew Bourne,
Fear,
Joe Finger,
Alton Ellis,
Don Cherry,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy.
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.