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 Romania and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 808 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 The Techniques to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 This Heat. All the underground hits.
All The Kinks 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 jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rufus Thomas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camouflage,
A Certain Ratio,
Heaven 17,
New Order,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ponytail,
Brick,
Index,
Funkadelic,
Rosa Yemen,
Suicide,
Donny Hathaway,
Dead Boys,
the Fania All-Stars,
Surgeon,
Eli Mardock,
The Dead C,
Marmalade,
Fluxion,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Young Rascals,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sam Rivers,
Tubeway Army,
Blancmange,
Urselle,
The Alarm Clocks,
Dark Day,
Lou Reed,
The Five Americans,
Sällskapet,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Symarip,
Malaria!,
Joe Smooth,
The Tremeloes,
Piero Umiliani,
The Velvet Underground,
Bill Near,
Suburban Knight,
John Coltrane,
Susan Cadogan,
Tim Buckley,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The J.B.'s,
The Blackbyrds,
Metal Thangz,
Von Mondo,
PIL,
Bad Manners,
KRS-One,
Eric B and Rakim,
Glambeats Corp.,
Jeff Mills,
Todd Terry,
John Cale,
The Star Department,
Lyres,
Soul Sonic Force,
T.S.O.L.,
Leonard Cohen,
Basic Channel,
Lee Hazlewood,
Colin Newman, Colin Newman, Colin Newman, Colin Newman.
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.