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 Tunisia and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 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 The Royal Family And The Poor to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 MDC. All the underground hits.
All Nils Olav tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every PIL record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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,
JFA,
The Dead C,
Fela Kuti,
The Doobie Brothers,
Fear,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Mission of Burma,
Smog,
Boredoms,
Flipper,
Cybotron,
Panda Bear,
Barry Ungar,
Kevin Saunderson,
Whodini,
The Sound,
Neu!,
Soul Sonic Force,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ronnie Foster,
The Seeds,
The Smiths,
Josef K,
Icehouse,
The Young Rascals,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lyres,
Dead Boys,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Zeros,
Alton Ellis,
Pet Shop Boys,
Brass Construction,
The Flesh Eaters,
Minutemen,
Aural Exciters,
The Star Department,
Matthew Halsall,
Stetsasonic,
Erasure,
Au Pairs,
Terry Callier,
Carl Craig,
Sonny Sharrock,
Erykah Badu,
The Litter,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
DJ Sneak,
New Age Steppers,
Mo-Dettes,
Ken Boothe,
Reagan Youth,
The Misunderstood,
B.T. Express,
Kurtis Blow,
Todd Rundgren,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Pylon,
DNA,
Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield.
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.