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 Bahrain and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 L. Decosne to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Roger Hodgson. All the underground hits.
All Cheater Slicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lizzy Mercier Descloux 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
The Fuzztones,
Mary Jane Girls,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Davy DMX,
Dorothy Ashby,
John Coltrane,
Wolf Eyes,
Nirvana,
Tubeway Army,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Duran Duran,
John Holt,
Au Pairs,
Scan 7,
Angry Samoans,
Bizarre Inc.,
Stetsasonic,
Funkadelic,
Donny Hathaway,
Whodini,
Severed Heads,
Section 25,
Infiniti,
Ronan,
Dennis Brown,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Todd Terry,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Archie Shepp,
Scion,
The Young Rascals,
Moss Icon,
This Heat,
Goldenarms,
Agent Orange,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Flash Fearless,
Nas,
Aloha Tigers,
The Pretty Things,
Popol Vuh,
The Golliwogs,
Television Personalities,
Camberwell Now,
Sun City Girls,
The Victims,
Joey Negro,
The Evens,
Marvin Gaye,
The Leaves,
World's Most,
Animal Collective,
Toni Rubio,
The Sound,
Trumans Water,
Second Layer,
Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound.
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.