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 Rwanda and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 Mexico City and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 David Bowie 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 Gabor Szabo to the punk 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 Al Stewart. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rufus Thomas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grandmaster Flash record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ice-T,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
A Certain Ratio,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Davy DMX,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lou Reed,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Masters at Work,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Angels of Light,
Bobby Sherman,
The Divine Comedy,
The Offenders,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lyres,
the Soft Cell,
The Last Poets,
China Crisis,
Lungfish,
The Golliwogs,
R.M.O.,
the Bar-Kays,
Pantytec,
Bush Tetras,
Sun City Girls,
DJ Sneak,
Arcadia,
Black Flag,
London Community Gospel Choir,
cv313,
Kas Product,
The Techniques,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Moleskins,
Boogie Down Productions,
X-Ray Spex,
U.S. Maple,
Mo-Dettes,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Black Bananas,
Crispy Ambulance,
Jeff Lynne,
The Evens,
MC5,
Man Parrish,
Jerry's Kids,
X-102,
The Grass Roots,
Aloha Tigers,
Byron Stingily,
The Red Krayola,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Suburban Knight,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Scientists,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster.
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.