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 Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Salvador.
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 sitar 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 Nick Fraelich 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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lalo Schifrin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
This Heat,
Howard Jones,
The Seeds,
Connie Case,
Visage,
Gang of Four,
Siglo XX,
Dave Gahan,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Avey Tare,
MC5,
Dawn Penn,
Television Personalities,
Vladislav Delay,
Ornette Coleman,
June Days,
Index,
Mary Jane Girls,
Neil Young,
Bang On A Can,
Alphaville,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Donald Byrd,
Kool Moe Dee,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Minutemen,
T. Rex,
Schoolly D,
The Tremeloes,
JFA,
Whodini,
Derrick May,
The Sound,
Barclay James Harvest,
Soul II Soul,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Nation of Ulysses,
X-101,
Man Parrish,
Blancmange,
Spoonie Gee,
T.S.O.L.,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Black Dice,
Fluxion,
Los Fastidios,
Ituana,
Kerrie Biddell,
Black Bananas,
New Order,
The Slits,
DNA,
The Fire Engines,
U.S. Maple,
The Moleskins,
The Index,
Agent Orange,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Minny Pops,
The Walker Brothers,
The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola.
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.