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 Argentina and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bar-Kays to the rap 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 Model 500. All the underground hits.
All The Vogues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Trojans,
Nico,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Happenings,
Animal Collective,
Black Pus,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Bill Near,
Severed Heads,
Quantec,
Talk Talk,
Hasil Adkins,
Model 500,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Wolf Eyes,
the Soft Cell,
The Cure,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Neu!,
Joe Finger,
Procol Harum,
Henry Cow,
Mission of Burma,
Nation of Ulysses,
Soulsonic Force,
Newcleus,
Jawbox,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Pierre Henry,
The Alarm Clocks,
Camouflage,
Ash Ra Tempel,
JFA,
Pantytec,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Star Department,
Minor Threat,
Glambeats Corp.,
Crime,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Easy Going,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Jacob Miller,
The Blues Magoos,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Fortunes,
Cheater Slicks,
Kerri Chandler,
Jerry's Kids,
Liliput,
Faust,
Soft Cell,
Sparks,
10cc,
The Mojo Men,
Erasure,
Robert Wyatt,
Kas Product,
Nils Olav,
Unwound,
The Slackers,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.