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 United States and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 harpsichord 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 The Blues Magoos to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang of Four 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 an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Patti Smith,
The Barracudas,
Robert Görl,
Icehouse,
Funkadelic,
Reuben Wilson,
Basic Channel,
Stereo Dub,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jerry's Kids,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Loose Ends,
Nils Olav,
The Standells,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Adolescents,
Kenny Larkin,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Goldenarms,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Royal Trux,
D'Angelo,
Dark Day,
The Grass Roots,
Black Bananas,
Fad Gadget,
Yusef Lateef,
Boz Scaggs,
China Crisis,
The Music Machine,
June Days,
Minor Threat,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Neon Judgement,
Bizarre Inc.,
Talk Talk,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Robert Hood,
Average White Band,
Mars,
The Selecter,
The Angels of Light,
Donny Hathaway,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
John Lydon,
Lyres,
The Knickerbockers,
Marine Girls,
The Walker Brothers,
Tropical Tobacco,
Carl Craig,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Gang Green,
Accadde A,
Supertramp,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
New York Dolls,
The Electric Prunes,
The Moody Blues,
Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless.
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.