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 Korea North and from Sao Paulo.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes 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 X-Ray Spex to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All Y Pants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fat Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Terry Callier,
Barbara Tucker,
The Martian,
Theoretical Girls,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pere Ubu,
Marmalade,
Mr. Review,
Ossler,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Little Man,
Maleditus Sound,
Jeru the Damaja,
Aloha Tigers,
Piero Umiliani,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
the Soft Cell,
David Axelrod,
The Victims,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Evens,
The Move,
Sandy B,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Lightning Bolt,
Leonard Cohen,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ludus,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Jeff Lynne,
The Sonics,
DNA,
Vainqueur,
Adolescents,
The Litter,
Sun Ra,
Harry Pussy,
Soul II Soul,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sixth Finger,
Crime,
Saccharine Trust,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Durutti Column,
Urselle,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Absolute Body Control,
Bad Manners,
Dead Boys,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bang On A Can,
Basic Channel,
The Associates,
Quantec,
Kaleidoscope,
Eric B and Rakim,
10cc,
Josef K,
Letta Mbulu,
The Motions,
B.T. Express,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago, Art Ensemble Of Chicago, Art Ensemble Of Chicago, Art Ensemble Of Chicago.
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.