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 Lyon.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 harpsichord 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 Kevin Saunderson to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Jacob Miller. All the underground hits.
All The Trojans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reagan Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 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 Boogie Down Productions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Jawbox,
Faust,
Hot Snakes,
Gang Green,
Surgeon,
the Sonics,
The Angels of Light,
Babytalk,
Yaz,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
UT,
Rotary Connection,
The Tremeloes,
Quantec,
Goldenarms,
Yellowson,
ABC,
FM Einheit,
Letta Mbulu,
the Bar-Kays,
Moby Grape,
Colin Newman,
Thee Headcoats,
Pole,
Das Ding,
Saccharine Trust,
Donald Byrd,
The Grass Roots,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Stereo Dub,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Young Rascals,
Chris & Cosey,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Fear,
The Human League,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Inner City,
Au Pairs,
Camouflage,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Birthday Party,
Heaven 17,
The American Breed,
T.S.O.L.,
Youth Brigade,
Flash Fearless,
Pulsallama,
Judy Mowatt,
Sällskapet,
Graham Central Station,
Lyres,
The Kinks,
Lebanon Hanover,
Lightning Bolt,
F. McDonald,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Residents,
Suburban Knight,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.