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 Morocco and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Crooked Eye to the grime 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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All Minor Threat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Porter Ricks 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Doobie Brothers,
Neil Young,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Johnny Clarke,
Zero Boys,
Peter & Gordon,
Kerri Chandler,
Ice-T,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Fire Engines,
Oblivians,
Trumans Water,
The Last Poets,
The Slits,
DJ Sneak,
Al Stewart,
Mad Mike,
Visage,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Grass Roots,
Gang Green,
Blancmange,
Anakelly,
Country Teasers,
Mission of Burma,
Lee Hazlewood,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Leaves,
Desert Stars,
Urselle,
Patti Smith,
Deakin,
Wire,
Bizarre Inc.,
Organ,
Sugar Minott,
Yusef Lateef,
The Names,
Gregory Isaacs,
Motorama,
Agent Orange,
Sam Rivers,
Todd Rundgren,
Nick Fraelich,
Main Source,
The Monochrome Set,
Albert Ayler,
Bootsy Collins,
Popol Vuh,
One Last Wish,
Crooked Eye,
Joe Smooth,
Jandek,
Minutemen,
Fugazi,
Moebius,
Scientists,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Laurel Aitken,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Suicide,
Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound.
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.