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 Lebanon and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 güiro 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Neil Young. All the underground hits.
All Average White Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The New Christs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kaleidoscope,
Henry Cow,
Tomorrow,
Index,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Slick Rick,
Scan 7,
Fela Kuti,
Clear Light,
The Move,
Idris Muhammad,
Mad Mike,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Archie Shepp,
Hashim,
Tom Boy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Crime,
The Evens,
The Divine Comedy,
Ornette Coleman,
Quando Quango,
The Detroit Cobras,
Scott Walker,
Funky Four + One,
Yazoo,
The Fortunes,
Oneida,
Ludus,
The Techniques,
Bill Wells,
Terrestrial Tones,
Zero Boys,
Lungfish,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Mummies,
Jesper Dahlback,
Dorothy Ashby,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Wolf Eyes,
The Gun Club,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
New York Dolls,
The Five Americans,
The Durutti Column,
Funkadelic,
Magazine,
The Last Poets,
a-ha,
The Monochrome Set,
Bobby Byrd,
R.M.O.,
PIL,
Sarah Menescal,
The Gories,
The J.B.'s,
Ken Boothe,
Mantronix,
Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane.
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.