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 Argentina and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Spokane.
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 organ 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 Gastr Del Sol 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 The Searchers. All the underground hits.
All The Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Simply Red record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Loose Ends,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Parry Music,
Bauhaus,
This Heat,
Roy Ayers,
Scion,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rotary Connection,
Porter Ricks,
Guru Guru,
the Soft Cell,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
DNA,
Warren Ellis,
Gichy Dan,
The Grass Roots,
K-Klass,
Sexual Harrassment,
Procol Harum,
Matthew Bourne,
Gregory Isaacs,
Chris & Cosey,
John Holt,
Derrick May,
Erykah Badu,
The Fugs,
Ten City,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lightning Bolt,
Man Eating Sloth,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Rekid,
Amazonics,
Ossler,
Sällskapet,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Minny Pops,
The Velvet Underground,
48th St. Collective,
Scratch Acid,
X-102,
Arab on Radar,
In Retrospect,
Rakim,
Arthur Verocai,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Neu!,
Cluster,
The Raincoats,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pantytec,
AZ,
Alice Coltrane,
Main Source,
Newcleus,
New Order,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Harpers Bizarre,
Laurel Aitken,
Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling.
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.