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 Solomon Islands and from Lyon.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 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 Pharoah Sanders to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Whodini tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Big Daddy Kane,
Joyce Sims,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Malaria!,
Bill Near,
Spandau Ballet,
Underground Resistance,
Reagan Youth,
Cymande,
Jesper Dahlback,
Marc Almond,
Bobby Byrd,
Magazine,
The Barracudas,
Morten Harket,
Michelle Simonal,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Suburban Knight,
Lightning Bolt,
Slick Rick,
Country Teasers,
John Lydon,
Dorothy Ashby,
kango's stein massive,
The Slits,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Smog,
Faust,
Derrick Morgan,
Ituana,
R.M.O.,
The Birthday Party,
Jerry's Kids,
Infiniti,
Charles Mingus,
Agitation Free,
The Leaves,
Crispian St. Peters,
Desert Stars,
Roy Ayers,
The Busters,
Cecil Taylor,
Ohio Players,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
H. Thieme,
In Retrospect,
Audionom,
Swell Maps,
Gong,
The Victims,
Jimmy McGriff,
Gichy Dan,
The Durutti Column,
Qualms,
Altered Images,
Organ,
The Blackbyrds,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Roxy Music,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.