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 Maldives and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Harpers Bizarre to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Boz Scaggs. All the underground hits.
All Soul II Soul tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sam Rivers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kurtis Blow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moby Grape,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Supertramp,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sällskapet,
Mr. Review,
Black Flag,
Subhumans,
One Last Wish,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Evens,
Hot Snakes,
Can,
Connie Case,
Absolute Body Control,
The Fire Engines,
Dave Gahan,
Gang of Four,
Dennis Brown,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Tim Buckley,
X-Ray Spex,
The Wake,
The Busters,
Lightning Bolt,
Derrick Morgan,
Newcleus,
Scratch Acid,
Flamin' Groovies,
Minnie Riperton,
Fat Boys,
The Last Poets,
The Neon Judgement,
Cal Tjader,
Idris Muhammad,
The Golliwogs,
Silicon Teens,
Maurizio,
Au Pairs,
Grey Daturas,
Popol Vuh,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Red Krayola,
Bauhaus,
Alison Limerick,
Deadbeat,
Spandau Ballet,
Howard Jones,
Aswad,
CMW,
Quantec,
Delon & Dalcan,
Radiopuhelimet,
Pagans,
Cheater Slicks,
The Doobie Brothers,
Echospace,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues.
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.