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 Iran and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Philadelphia.
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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Ajijia Myrayebe 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 Minutemen. All the underground hits.
All Funky Four + One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radiopuhelimet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Dawn Penn,
The Mummies,
Vainqueur,
Pharoah Sanders,
Heaven 17,
Crime,
Mission of Burma,
Black Bananas,
the Germs,
Erykah Badu,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Darondo,
Make Up,
Bluetip,
Talk Talk,
Leonard Cohen,
Radiopuhelimet,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Mark Hollis,
Marc Almond,
Fatback Band,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Unwound,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Roxy Music,
Rod Modell,
The Residents,
Ituana,
Bauhaus,
Aloha Tigers,
Black Sheep,
R.M.O.,
The Gap Band,
Tomorrow,
Monolake,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Tim Buckley,
Wire,
Byron Stingily,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Howard Jones,
The Kinks,
Excepter,
The Doobie Brothers,
Khruangbin,
Swans,
Aural Exciters,
The Monks,
Blancmange,
The Selecter,
Man Parrish,
The J.B.'s,
The Velvet Underground,
New York Dolls,
Cluster,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Fuzztones,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Offenders,
Angry Samoans,
Accadde A,
David Axelrod, David Axelrod, David Axelrod, David Axelrod.
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.