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 Gabon and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Easy Going. All the underground hits.
All Lizzy Mercier Descloux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unrelated Segments 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 snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gerry Rafferty record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aural Exciters,
The J.B.'s,
Max Romeo,
Scientists,
OOIOO,
John Cale,
Bush Tetras,
Dennis Brown,
Blancmange,
Ten City,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
JFA,
Marshall Jefferson,
New Order,
Absolute Body Control,
Davy DMX,
Black Pus,
Malaria!,
Ralphi Rosario,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Shoche,
The Monks,
Tropical Tobacco,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Fortunes,
The Electric Prunes,
Porter Ricks,
New Age Steppers,
Rapeman,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Jandek,
Pantytec,
Echospace,
Tommy Roe,
Pharoah Sanders,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Last Poets,
In Retrospect,
Guru Guru,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Black Bananas,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Desert Stars,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Jimmy McGriff,
Scion,
Tubeway Army,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sound Behaviour,
John Coltrane,
The Slits,
Ice-T,
kango's stein massive,
The Mojo Men,
Judy Mowatt,
The Moleskins,
The Buckinghams,
U.S. Maple,
The New Christs,
The Fall, The Fall, The Fall, The Fall.
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.