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 Singapore and from London.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Michael McDonald 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 Sällskapet to the dance 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 Country Joe & The Fish. All the underground hits.
All The Modern Lovers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June of 44 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry Gold Smith,
Simply Red,
Glenn Branca,
Man Eating Sloth,
Pole,
Cabaret Voltaire,
R.M.O.,
Ultra Naté,
CMW,
Alice Coltrane,
Gil Scott Heron,
T.S.O.L.,
Nico,
Yaz,
Metal Thangz,
Brand Nubian,
Bang On A Can,
Rakim,
Siglo XX,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Beau Brummels,
FM Einheit,
Black Bananas,
Joyce Sims,
Supertramp,
The Blues Magoos,
Steve Hackett,
Soft Machine,
Japan,
H. Thieme,
Vainqueur,
The Stooges,
Jeff Lynne,
Pierre Henry,
Deepchord,
The Associates,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Tremeloes,
Hoover,
Qualms,
Average White Band,
The Neon Judgement,
The Angels of Light,
The Remains,
Nils Olav,
The Offenders,
Nick Fraelich,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Detroit Cobras,
L. Decosne,
the Association,
Alton Ellis,
Bauhaus,
Ponytail,
Eden Ahbez,
Gang of Four,
Silicon Teens,
Echospace,
The Litter,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.