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 Barbados and from Mumbai.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 spring reverb 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Jesper Dahlback. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flamin' Groovies,
R.M.O.,
Duran Duran,
Franke,
Saccharine Trust,
Aural Exciters,
the Bar-Kays,
Fugazi,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
June Days,
Scratch Acid,
The Wake,
Neil Young,
Blancmange,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lou Christie,
Kurtis Blow,
Arthur Verocai,
Pussy Galore,
Skarface,
ABBA,
X-Ray Spex,
Agitation Free,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gang of Four,
Supertramp,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Toni Rubio,
Terrestrial Tones,
The J.B.'s,
David Axelrod,
Donald Byrd,
Delon & Dalcan,
Jimmy McGriff,
Scott Walker,
Pantaleimon,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Half Japanese,
The Angels of Light,
The Alarm Clocks,
Cheater Slicks,
John Foxx,
Flipper,
Grey Daturas,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Radiohead,
Mandrill,
Masters at Work,
Ludus,
This Heat,
Crime,
Sparks,
the Human League,
Carl Craig,
Ituana,
UT,
Avey Tare,
Dawn Penn,
Harry Pussy,
Country Teasers,
Icehouse,
Niagra,
Anakelly,
The Gap Band, The Gap Band, The Gap Band, The Gap Band.
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.