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 Ecuador and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Lucky Dragons to the techno 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 The Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Terry Callier tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James Chance & The Contortions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott Heron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Finger,
The Leaves,
the Fania All-Stars,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
David Axelrod,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Gang Green,
Franke,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Avey Tare,
Boz Scaggs,
Infiniti,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Trumans Water,
Nils Olav,
Pet Shop Boys,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sister Nancy,
Nas,
One Last Wish,
Derrick Morgan,
Eric Copeland,
Suicide,
Buzzcocks,
CMW,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The American Breed,
Excepter,
The Cure,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Absolute Body Control,
OOIOO,
Moby Grape,
Bobby Byrd,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Suburban Knight,
DJ Style,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Motions,
Bill Wells,
Freddie Wadling,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Fear,
ABBA,
Minutemen,
Danielle Patucci,
Marine Girls,
The Victims,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Wake,
The Barracudas,
Interpol,
EPMD,
Terrestrial Tones,
James White and The Blacks,
Animal Collective,
Slave,
Gang Starr,
Susan Cadogan,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx.
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.