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 Suriname and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Motorama. All the underground hits.
All The Kinks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kurtis Blow 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Subhumans,
Organ,
Sam Rivers,
Flipper,
Alton Ellis,
Pylon,
Brick,
The Skatalites,
David Bowie,
Aloha Tigers,
Nation of Ulysses,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bobby Byrd,
Charles Mingus,
Jeff Lynne,
Ronnie Foster,
Aswad,
Neu!,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Gerry Rafferty,
Fad Gadget,
The Vogues,
The Busters,
Massinfluence,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Stiv Bators,
Peter and Kerry,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Boredoms,
The Pretty Things,
Mantronix,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Todd Terry,
Man Eating Sloth,
Wasted Youth,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Dirtbombs,
The Barracudas,
Minnie Riperton,
Pole,
Swell Maps,
Pet Shop Boys,
Judy Mowatt,
Can,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Television,
Jerry's Kids,
Magazine,
Underground Resistance,
Echospace,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Doobie Brothers,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Franke,
Deakin,
Nils Olav,
Rhythm & Sound,
Chrome,
Skarface,
Fatback Band,
Con Funk Shun,
Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins.
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.