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 Ivory Coast and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Yusef Lateef to the rap 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 Sonic Youth. All the underground hits.
All The New Christs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spandau Ballet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
MC5,
T. Rex,
Magma,
Kas Product,
Lyres,
Terry Callier,
Tres Demented,
Rakim,
Siglo XX,
Crash Course in Science,
Grey Daturas,
The Mummies,
Eli Mardock,
The Monochrome Set,
The Cure,
Kurtis Blow,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Derrick Morgan,
Pulsallama,
Deepchord,
The Sonics,
The Residents,
Groovy Waters,
cv313,
Hot Snakes,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Cowsills,
The Doors,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Moss Icon,
Pantytec,
Fela Kuti,
The Misunderstood,
The Move,
Bobby Sherman,
Outsiders,
Chrome,
Spandau Ballet,
Eric B and Rakim,
Cecil Taylor,
The Buckinghams,
Trumans Water,
Newcleus,
Lalann,
Y Pants,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Black Bananas,
David Axelrod,
Kool Moe Dee,
Warsaw,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Victims,
Index,
Circle Jerks,
Ken Boothe,
Sarah Menescal,
Rapeman,
Soulsonic Force,
Moebius,
Throbbing Gristle,
Neil Young,
8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy.
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.