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 Sudan and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 guitar 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 The Searchers to the crunk 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 Kings Of Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Sugar Minott tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cal Tjader 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
FM Einheit,
Theoretical Girls,
OOIOO,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Agitation Free,
The Smiths,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Gang Starr,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ultimate Spinach,
Guru Guru,
Siglo XX,
Crime,
Yazoo,
Public Image Ltd.,
Big Daddy Kane,
Electric Prunes,
Roxette,
X-102,
Johnny Clarke,
Pierre Henry,
Intrusion,
T.S.O.L.,
the Slits,
Drexciya,
L. Decosne,
Gil Scott Heron,
Massinfluence,
Babytalk,
Traffic Nightmare,
Unwound,
The Busters,
Mars,
Matthew Bourne,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Nirvana,
Masters at Work,
The Fugs,
The Gladiators,
Banda Bassotti,
Porter Ricks,
Robert Wyatt,
Urselle,
Fat Boys,
June Days,
Avey Tare,
Scott Walker,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
the Sonics,
World's Most,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Godley & Creme,
Black Moon,
Donald Byrd,
The Cure,
The Selecter,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Motorama,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bobby Byrd,
The Dirtbombs,
KRS-One,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.