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 Saudi Arabia and from Delhi.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 808 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 Neil Young to the crunk 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 Skarface. All the underground hits.
All Fort Wilson Riot tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kayak 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 mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Judy Mowatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Faust,
Charles Mingus,
H. Thieme,
Don Cherry,
The Dead C,
Skarface,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lungfish,
Fatback Band,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Joensuu 1685,
Ponytail,
The Real Kids,
Byron Stingily,
Magma,
Arthur Verocai,
Gabor Szabo,
ABBA,
Maurizio,
Bang On A Can,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Dark Day,
The Blackbyrds,
Das Ding,
Erykah Badu,
Angry Samoans,
Smog,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Siglo XX,
The Fortunes,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Knickerbockers,
The Pretty Things,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Joey Negro,
The Black Dice,
Zero Boys,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Mojo Men,
Scrapy,
Wasted Youth,
World's Most,
The Index,
Severed Heads,
Letta Mbulu,
Ice-T,
Quando Quango,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Bill Wells,
Brick,
Pagans,
Royal Trux,
The Monochrome Set,
The Sound,
Matthew Halsall,
Jesper Dahlback,
Inner City,
Soul II Soul,
Man Parrish,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Swell Maps,
Flipper, Flipper, Flipper, Flipper.
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.