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 Spain and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Soul II Soul to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All X-Ray Spex 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 funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Morten Harket,
Barbara Tucker,
A Certain Ratio,
Reuben Wilson,
Bad Manners,
Royal Trux,
The Saints,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Monks,
Ultra Naté,
The Mummies,
Los Fastidios,
Half Japanese,
Prince Buster,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Gang of Four,
The Buckinghams,
Josef K,
June of 44,
Buzzcocks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Qualms,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Laurel Aitken,
Suicide,
Johnny Clarke,
Das Ding,
Jeru the Damaja,
Wasted Youth,
The Victims,
Archie Shepp,
Main Source,
Severed Heads,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Charles Mingus,
Bobby Sherman,
Sister Nancy,
the Bar-Kays,
Section 25,
Alice Coltrane,
Tommy Roe,
These Immortal Souls,
David McCallum,
Sun City Girls,
Susan Cadogan,
Deadbeat,
Neu!,
Arthur Verocai,
Sixth Finger,
Matthew Bourne,
Infiniti,
Siglo XX,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sexual Harrassment,
Can,
The Dirtbombs,
Boogie Down Productions,
DNA,
UT,
The Mojo Men,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.