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 Guinea and from Accra.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Robert Palmer 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 John Holt to the techno 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 Minutemen. All the underground hits.
All Robert Görl tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Popol Vuh record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
K-Klass,
Thee Headcoats,
Tubeway Army,
Brand Nubian,
Barry Ungar,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Los Fastidios,
Scratch Acid,
Todd Terry,
The Mojo Men,
The Sonics,
The Smoke,
Rites of Spring,
The Fugs,
Altered Images,
Albert Ayler,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
UT,
Pole,
Idris Muhammad,
Radiopuhelimet,
Boogie Down Productions,
Mandrill,
The Knickerbockers,
MDC,
The Velvet Underground,
Audionom,
Supertramp,
June Days,
T. Rex,
Sister Nancy,
Fluxion,
Bill Near,
Shoche,
Saccharine Trust,
The Five Americans,
The Fire Engines,
Deadbeat,
The Star Department,
The Divine Comedy,
Barrington Levy,
Severed Heads,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Talk Talk,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Unwound,
Lalann,
The Skatalites,
Newcleus,
Cheater Slicks,
kango's stein massive,
Darondo,
Peter & Gordon,
Dennis Brown,
Bronski Beat,
the Swans,
John Coltrane,
Marine Girls,
Aloha Tigers,
Bizarre Inc.,
Angry Samoans,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.