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 Guyana and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 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 Eddi Front 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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All Japan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott Heron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Organ,
Chrome,
Godley & Creme,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Doobie Brothers,
B.T. Express,
Scion,
Aloha Tigers,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tres Demented,
Bobby Womack,
Massinfluence,
Underground Resistance,
DNA,
Archie Shepp,
The Monks,
John Cale,
Dorothy Ashby,
Dark Day,
Eric B and Rakim,
Brick,
Peter & Gordon,
Hasil Adkins,
Radiopuhelimet,
Black Sheep,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Selecter,
cv313,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Alarm Clocks,
Spoonie Gee,
Monks,
The Last Poets,
Dual Sessions,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The J.B.'s,
Sarah Menescal,
Wasted Youth,
Roy Ayers,
Girls At Our Best!,
Khruangbin,
The Toasters,
Stiv Bators,
Loose Ends,
Index,
The Slits,
The Moleskins,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Moody Blues,
the Association,
Todd Terry,
Parry Music,
Shuggie Otis,
Chris Corsano,
Cluster,
Derrick May,
Bizarre Inc.,
Marcia Griffiths,
Marine Girls,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Radiohead,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.