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 Jordan and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 Michael McDonald 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 F. McDonald to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Selecter. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Excepter 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Warsaw,
Bobby Womack,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Divine Comedy,
Iggy Pop,
Bill Wells,
Angry Samoans,
Basic Channel,
The Busters,
Ultravox,
F. McDonald,
Mr. Review,
Wally Richardson,
Monks,
The Fire Engines,
The Saints,
Johnny Clarke,
Scion,
Zero Boys,
Blossom Toes,
Country Teasers,
Infiniti,
Funkadelic,
Mantronix,
Gang of Four,
The Smiths,
Wings,
Howard Jones,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Human League,
Fifty Foot Hose,
K-Klass,
Kurtis Blow,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
John Holt,
Dawn Penn,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Electric Prunes,
Interpol,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Leonard Cohen,
Zapp,
Sexual Harrassment,
Nirvana,
The Cramps,
Newcleus,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Skarface,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Scratch Acid,
The Sonics,
The Trojans,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ornette Coleman,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ultimate Spinach,
Essential Logic,
Yusef Lateef, Yusef Lateef, Yusef Lateef, Yusef Lateef.
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.