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 Togo and from Bologna.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Jakarta.
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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Radiohead to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Divine Comedy. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aswad,
Sister Nancy,
Lucky Dragons,
Flipper,
Scientists,
Shoche,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Stiv Bators,
Carl Craig,
David Axelrod,
Quantec,
It's A Beautiful Day,
X-102,
Chris & Cosey,
The Electric Prunes,
Average White Band,
The Gap Band,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Pharoah Sanders,
Anthony Braxton,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bobby Womack,
Pantaleimon,
Eddi Front,
The Happenings,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Man Eating Sloth,
Agent Orange,
Cheater Slicks,
Joyce Sims,
Godley & Creme,
Kayak,
Robert Görl,
D'Angelo,
Saccharine Trust,
Mad Mike,
Porter Ricks,
Mission of Burma,
Max Romeo,
Liliput,
Crooked Eye,
The Dead C,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Faust,
Pussy Galore,
Unrelated Segments,
Tropical Tobacco,
Erasure,
The Toasters,
Morten Harket,
Sound Behaviour,
Mo-Dettes,
Sly & The Family Stone,
X-Ray Spex,
The Sonics,
Wings,
Connie Case,
Eric B and Rakim,
Donald Byrd,
Pagans,
Silicon Teens,
Slave,
Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses.
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.