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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu to the disco 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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amazonics 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tears for Fears record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Gichy Dan,
MC5,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Blackbyrds,
New York Dolls,
Eric Dolphy,
The Shadows of Knight,
Chris & Cosey,
Urselle,
E-Dancer,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Outsiders,
Cluster,
Jeff Lynne,
Byron Stingily,
Shoche,
Los Fastidios,
The Monks,
Ituana,
The Vogues,
Kas Product,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Tim Buckley,
Alphaville,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Shuggie Otis,
Flash Fearless,
Roger Hodgson,
Big Daddy Kane,
Barrington Levy,
10cc,
Cal Tjader,
Quantec,
The Slackers,
Altered Images,
Grauzone,
K-Klass,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Neu!,
Second Layer,
Wolf Eyes,
Kevin Saunderson,
DNA,
Gabor Szabo,
Magma,
This Heat,
Lightning Bolt,
Anthony Braxton,
Sound Behaviour,
The Smiths,
Josef K,
The Toasters,
Alton Ellis,
Ornette Coleman,
The Knickerbockers,
Technova,
Index,
Stereo Dub,
Talk Talk,
Tubeway Army,
Eden Ahbez,
Bush Tetras,
Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith.
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.