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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Portland.
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 oboe 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 Funkadelic to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All The Offenders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siglo XX record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
The Victims,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Electric Prunes,
Brothers Johnson,
Sparks,
The Dead C,
X-Ray Spex,
Max Romeo,
The Tremeloes,
Lindisfarne,
Cluster,
Bobby Womack,
The Selecter,
The Last Poets,
The Human League,
Aural Exciters,
The Leaves,
Bad Manners,
Amon Düül II,
Scientists,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Glenn Branca,
Chris & Cosey,
Circle Jerks,
Matthew Halsall,
Country Teasers,
CMW,
Whodini,
Robert Görl,
Motorama,
Ultimate Spinach,
Little Man,
Laurel Aitken,
Wolf Eyes,
Mission of Burma,
Moss Icon,
Adolescents,
The Zeros,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Spoonie Gee,
The Moody Blues,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jawbox,
Throbbing Gristle,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Sisters of Mercy,
the Bar-Kays,
The American Breed,
The Monks,
Buzzcocks,
Public Enemy,
Dave Gahan,
Bill Near,
Ornette Coleman,
Terry Callier,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills.
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.