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 Oman and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Joey Negro to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lucky Dragons. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slackers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Unwound,
Crash Course in Science,
Malaria!,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Mummies,
Boz Scaggs,
The Doors,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Cybotron,
The Knickerbockers,
DNA,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rekid,
Circle Jerks,
Donald Byrd,
The Fire Engines,
Can,
Inner City,
The Names,
The Count Five,
Little Man,
David McCallum,
Infiniti,
Radiohead,
Michelle Simonal,
Barry Ungar,
Max Romeo,
The Shadows of Knight,
Albert Ayler,
LL Cool J,
U.S. Maple,
One Last Wish,
Moby Grape,
Yusef Lateef,
Bob Dylan,
Jerry's Kids,
Outsiders,
Magma,
Khruangbin,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
R.M.O.,
Camouflage,
The Sonics,
Marshall Jefferson,
Rites of Spring,
Model 500,
The Flesh Eaters,
Amon Düül,
Maurizio,
Iggy Pop,
Henry Cow,
Smog,
the Normal,
Parry Music,
OOIOO,
Clear Light,
Slave,
Eric Copeland,
The Fortunes,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.