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 Turkey and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 Paris and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 sitar 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 Gabor Szabo to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Altered Images 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fort Wilson Riot,
David Axelrod,
Donny Hathaway,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Suicide,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Procol Harum,
Vladislav Delay,
the Swans,
Blossom Toes,
the Germs,
Black Moon,
X-102,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Jeff Lynne,
Connie Case,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ronnie Foster,
The Index,
Infiniti,
Ronan,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Neil Young,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Massinfluence,
The Mummies,
the Bar-Kays,
Matthew Bourne,
X-101,
Scott Walker,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Maurizio,
Gang Green,
These Immortal Souls,
Minor Threat,
Don Cherry,
Moebius,
The Seeds,
Outsiders,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Grauzone,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Saccharine Trust,
Amazonics,
Jawbox,
Funky Four + One,
Marmalade,
Henry Cow,
Skarface,
Sister Nancy,
the Soft Cell,
Fela Kuti,
Yellowson,
The Slits,
Ituana,
Peter and Kerry,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.