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 Dominican Republic and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 Bologna and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Sound Behaviour to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Vladislav Delay. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cecil Taylor record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
The Seeds,
Stereo Dub,
Donny Hathaway,
Black Pus,
Soft Machine,
Al Stewart,
Gichy Dan,
Public Enemy,
Boredoms,
Eli Mardock,
Lyres,
Yellowson,
Gregory Isaacs,
Girls At Our Best!,
Aswad,
Sun City Girls,
ABC,
Q65,
Albert Ayler,
Interpol,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Buckinghams,
Nik Kershaw,
Eve St. Jones,
The Mojo Men,
Swans,
Eden Ahbez,
Dead Boys,
The Tremeloes,
The Five Americans,
Boogie Down Productions,
Section 25,
Cal Tjader,
The Martian,
The Electric Prunes,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Moody Blues,
Juan Atkins,
Byron Stingily,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Swans,
Laurel Aitken,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Dirtbombs,
Lightning Bolt,
Lou Reed,
Althea and Donna,
New York Dolls,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gastr Del Sol,
Loose Ends,
Freddie Wadling,
John Cale,
Yaz,
Charles Mingus,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Marine Girls,
Lungfish,
Porter Ricks,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.