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 Ethiopia and from Philadelphia.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Wally Richardson 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 FM Einheit. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blackbyrds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moby Grape,
The Dirtbombs,
Iggy Pop,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Grass Roots,
The Techniques,
The Pretty Things,
Bobby Sherman,
Terry Callier,
Pole,
Janne Schatter,
Faust,
U.S. Maple,
Fad Gadget,
Charles Mingus,
David Bowie,
Silicon Teens,
James White and The Blacks,
The Happenings,
Mr. Review,
Yazoo,
The Doobie Brothers,
Moebius,
Aural Exciters,
Model 500,
Groovy Waters,
Cluster,
Urselle,
Depeche Mode,
Toni Rubio,
Mad Mike,
David Axelrod,
Joe Finger,
Guru Guru,
The Saints,
The Last Poets,
The Pop Group,
Arcadia,
Lightning Bolt,
Grauzone,
Young Marble Giants,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Erykah Badu,
Susan Cadogan,
The Slackers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ultimate Spinach,
E-Dancer,
Warsaw,
The Birthday Party,
The Litter,
Alphaville,
Masters at Work,
Agitation Free,
Brick,
Ohio Players,
The Gladiators,
Lou Christie,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Gregory Isaacs,
Chris & Cosey,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.