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 Haiti and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Monolake. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eddi Front record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
U.S. Maple,
Tommy Roe,
Grauzone,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Skriet,
The Alarm Clocks,
Drive Like Jehu,
Cheater Slicks,
Todd Rundgren,
F. McDonald,
The Buckinghams,
China Crisis,
Rhythm & Sound,
Terrestrial Tones,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Zero Boys,
Bill Wells,
Maleditus Sound,
Fad Gadget,
Boredoms,
Pulsallama,
Danielle Patucci,
Michelle Simonal,
Fugazi,
The Gun Club,
The Dirtbombs,
Charles Mingus,
Make Up,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
D'Angelo,
Bad Manners,
The Gap Band,
Marshall Jefferson,
Eric Dolphy,
Youth Brigade,
The Tremeloes,
Black Pus,
The Martian,
Bluetip,
Public Image Ltd.,
Minutemen,
John Cale,
Rotary Connection,
The Birthday Party,
Big Daddy Kane,
Flash Fearless,
Nas,
Von Mondo,
The Vogues,
Chrome,
Laurel Aitken,
The Young Rascals,
The Zeros,
Peter and Kerry,
Ultra Naté,
Cymande,
Arthur Verocai,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Flamin' Groovies,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.