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 El Salvador and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 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 Soul Sonic Force to the jazz 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Black Dice record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DNA,
Interpol,
Fear,
H. Thieme,
Derrick May,
New Age Steppers,
the Bar-Kays,
Yazoo,
Amazonics,
The Slits,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Electric Prunes,
Ludus,
Jandek,
Kayak,
X-102,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Agent Orange,
The Divine Comedy,
Althea and Donna,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Con Funk Shun,
Fad Gadget,
Davy DMX,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
La Düsseldorf,
Siglo XX,
Zero Boys,
The Young Rascals,
Radio Birdman,
Eli Mardock,
Half Japanese,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Invisible,
Pussy Galore,
Unrelated Segments,
Panda Bear,
Malaria!,
Q65,
Los Fastidios,
Gong,
Sandy B,
Soft Cell,
F. McDonald,
Kurtis Blow,
Simply Red,
Slick Rick,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Trumans Water,
Junior Murvin,
Supertramp,
Sex Pistols,
Quadrant,
Thee Headcoats,
Surgeon,
Niagra,
The Electric Prunes,
Slave,
David Axelrod,
FM Einheit,
Johnny Osbourne,
Barrington Levy,
The Sonics,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.