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 Sudan and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 clarinet 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 Lindisfarne to the funk 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All Isaac Hayes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fortunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Cal Tjader,
Royal Trux,
Funkadelic,
Jeff Mills,
The Associates,
Minor Threat,
The Fire Engines,
Vladislav Delay,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Walker Brothers,
Gang of Four,
Bluetip,
Lalo Schifrin,
Absolute Body Control,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Joe Smooth,
Radiohead,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Eurythmics,
The Alarm Clocks,
The J.B.'s,
Crime,
Yusef Lateef,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Slick Rick,
Ornette Coleman,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Byron Stingily,
The Smiths,
Wolf Eyes,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Count Five,
Laurel Aitken,
Black Moon,
Monolake,
Peter and Kerry,
Bang On A Can,
Section 25,
Mad Mike,
Marvin Gaye,
Vainqueur,
The Mojo Men,
Pierre Henry,
R.M.O.,
Black Flag,
Alphaville,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Blues Magoos,
Davy DMX,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
the Association,
Skarface,
Gichy Dan,
Khruangbin,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Los Fastidios,
Danielle Patucci,
Warsaw,
Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going.
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.