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 Saudi Arabia and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Pulsallama to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All The Divine Comedy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus 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 theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wasted Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monochrome Set,
These Immortal Souls,
Susan Cadogan,
Morten Harket,
The Kinks,
48th St. Collective,
The Walker Brothers,
Agent Orange,
Qualms,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Golliwogs,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Blackbyrds,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Boz Scaggs,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Yazoo,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bad Manners,
The Seeds,
David Axelrod,
Deakin,
Tomorrow,
Barrington Levy,
Theoretical Girls,
Aswad,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Sixth Finger,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Blancmange,
Dawn Penn,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Swell Maps,
the Bar-Kays,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Drexciya,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Dead C,
Bluetip,
The Fall,
Reuben Wilson,
Television Personalities,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Terrestrial Tones,
The United States of America,
The Misunderstood,
The Velvet Underground,
PIL,
The Martian,
Gong,
OOIOO,
Godley & Creme,
Au Pairs,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Rhythm & Sound,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The J.B.'s,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson.
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.