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 Guinea 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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 arpeggiator 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 Donny Hathaway to the rock 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 Velvet Underground. All the underground hits.
All Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Bar-Kays record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
The New Christs,
The Trojans,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Tubeway Army,
Basic Channel,
These Immortal Souls,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Shuggie Otis,
The Mighty Diamonds,
David Axelrod,
The Fuzztones,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Eddi Front,
Bang On A Can,
K-Klass,
The Smiths,
The Flesh Eaters,
New York Dolls,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Fire Engines,
Lebanon Hanover,
Subhumans,
The Cowsills,
Swell Maps,
The Slackers,
Bluetip,
Peter and Kerry,
Accadde A,
Ronan,
Mo-Dettes,
Roxy Music,
Throbbing Gristle,
Cal Tjader,
Joensuu 1685,
Robert Görl,
Soft Machine,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Average White Band,
Dark Day,
John Lydon,
The Leaves,
The Dirtbombs,
In Retrospect,
The Stooges,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Traffic Nightmare,
F. McDonald,
Marvin Gaye,
MC5,
The Angels of Light,
Blake Baxter,
Michelle Simonal,
Unwound,
Letta Mbulu,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Nick Fraelich,
Lower 48,
Rufus Thomas,
Eden Ahbez,
Judy Mowatt,
Skarface,
Harry Pussy,
Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja.
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.