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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Donald Fagen 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All MDC tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alison Limerick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roger Hodgson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minny Pops,
Donny Hathaway,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Frankie Knuckles,
Wings,
The Fire Engines,
Bad Manners,
Boredoms,
Rod Modell,
Lucky Dragons,
The Index,
Pantaleimon,
Man Parrish,
Dead Boys,
Pole,
The Searchers,
Rites of Spring,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Slits,
Fluxion,
Stetsasonic,
Deepchord,
Bobbi Humphrey,
OOIOO,
Inner City,
Zapp,
Mission of Burma,
Harpers Bizarre,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Reuben Wilson,
The Cowsills,
Archie Shepp,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pierre Henry,
Hardrive,
Theoretical Girls,
Agent Orange,
Heaven 17,
Ludus,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Albert Ayler,
The Invisible,
John Coltrane,
Traffic Nightmare,
Franke,
Jimmy McGriff,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pere Ubu,
Henry Cow,
Soulsonic Force,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Brand Nubian,
EPMD,
John Lydon,
48th St. Collective,
Eden Ahbez,
Judy Mowatt,
Bronski Beat,
E-Dancer,
The Golliwogs,
The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges.
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.