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 Trinidad & Tobago and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 sitar 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 Erykah Badu to the disco 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All John Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Warsaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
Nico,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Barbara Tucker,
The Velvet Underground,
Todd Terry,
Junior Murvin,
Sixth Finger,
Bang On A Can,
Barclay James Harvest,
Newcleus,
Crooked Eye,
H. Thieme,
Soul II Soul,
Depeche Mode,
Siglo XX,
Michelle Simonal,
The Smoke,
Tim Buckley,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Jacob Miller,
The Offenders,
Godley & Creme,
Sun Ra,
Camouflage,
MDC,
KRS-One,
Arthur Verocai,
Severed Heads,
Howard Jones,
Smog,
Hot Snakes,
Neu!,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Derrick May,
Brick,
Rod Modell,
Barry Ungar,
The Gories,
Mr. Review,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Boredoms,
Eric Copeland,
Donny Hathaway,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bill Wells,
DJ Sneak,
F. McDonald,
Pole,
The Electric Prunes,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gregory Isaacs,
Kerri Chandler,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Chris & Cosey,
Quantec,
The Names,
Radio Birdman,
Hoover,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Panda Bear,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.