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 Oman and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 linndrum 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 Rufus Thomas to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Alarm Clocks. All the underground hits.
All The Pop Group tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every FM Einheit record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bauhaus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lindisfarne,
Joe Finger,
Tomorrow,
Dead Boys,
Malaria!,
The Names,
Ossler,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Young Rascals,
The Gun Club,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
the Bar-Kays,
Infiniti,
Big Daddy Kane,
Byron Stingily,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Last Poets,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Funkadelic,
T.S.O.L.,
Joey Negro,
a-ha,
The Smoke,
Interpol,
Aaron Thompson,
The Walker Brothers,
Nik Kershaw,
D'Angelo,
DJ Sneak,
A Certain Ratio,
Arab on Radar,
H. Thieme,
Thee Headcoats,
Reuben Wilson,
Black Moon,
The Electric Prunes,
Franke,
10cc,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Crash Course in Science,
Clear Light,
The Grass Roots,
Index,
Panda Bear,
Minnie Riperton,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Knickerbockers,
Jawbox,
Brick,
Fat Boys,
Reagan Youth,
David Bowie,
Michelle Simonal,
Robert Görl,
The Toasters,
Arthur Verocai,
Simply Red,
The Standells,
Public Enemy,
World's Most,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster.
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.