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 Bulgaria and from Houston.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 mellotron 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 Lightning Bolt 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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Severed Heads tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rufus Thomas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arcadia,
Gil Scott Heron,
Godley & Creme,
Essential Logic,
Dorothy Ashby,
Amon Düül,
Pagans,
Cecil Taylor,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Dave Clark Five,
Masters at Work,
Oneida,
The Trojans,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Bobby Sherman,
It's A Beautiful Day,
James White and The Blacks,
Nick Fraelich,
Monks,
the Normal,
Icehouse,
The Saints,
The Pop Group,
Silicon Teens,
the Sonics,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Count Five,
Grauzone,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ossler,
Gabor Szabo,
OOIOO,
The Searchers,
Albert Ayler,
Kurtis Blow,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Joyce Sims,
Youth Brigade,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Neu!,
The Names,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Q and Not U,
Hashim,
Laurel Aitken,
Sight & Sound,
June of 44,
Brothers Johnson,
Donny Hathaway,
Rapeman,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Hardrive,
Saccharine Trust,
Judy Mowatt,
The Dead C,
Mission of Burma,
Clear Light,
Aswad,
T.S.O.L.,
Agent Orange,
Black Moon,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.