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 Mozambique and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 güiro 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 Human League to the grunge 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 Slave. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siouxsie and the Banshees record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Christie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Mo-Dettes,
Joyce Sims,
R.M.O.,
Eurythmics,
Ash Ra Tempel,
T.S.O.L.,
A Certain Ratio,
Procol Harum,
the Slits,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Arthur Verocai,
Mary Jane Girls,
Flipper,
Black Moon,
Harry Pussy,
Chris Corsano,
Eddi Front,
Scott Walker,
Unrelated Segments,
Organ,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Minnie Riperton,
The Litter,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lungfish,
Black Sheep,
Sandy B,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Sonics,
Clear Light,
Essential Logic,
Shoche,
Anakelly,
Sex Pistols,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Michelle Simonal,
Wally Richardson,
Theoretical Girls,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Oneida,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gregory Isaacs,
Moby Grape,
Chrome,
Stetsasonic,
Black Bananas,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Funky Four + One,
The Grass Roots,
Monks,
the Soft Cell,
Youth Brigade,
Rosa Yemen,
Hashim,
8 Eyed Spy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction.
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.