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 Mauritania and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 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 Vladislav Delay to the punk 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 Cheater Slicks. All the underground hits.
All Fela Kuti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Standells 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 a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Crooked Eye,
Fluxion,
One Last Wish,
Camberwell Now,
Flash Fearless,
Johnny Osbourne,
Royal Trux,
Ronan,
Bootsy Collins,
The Human League,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
June of 44,
Slick Rick,
The Mummies,
Derrick May,
Cheater Slicks,
Fela Kuti,
Section 25,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kool Moe Dee,
Thompson Twins,
Anakelly,
Reagan Youth,
Groovy Waters,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Inner City,
R.M.O.,
Gang Gang Dance,
Monks,
Hashim,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bush Tetras,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Cal Tjader,
The Neon Judgement,
Wolf Eyes,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Pole,
Crispian St. Peters,
Arab on Radar,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
K-Klass,
Outsiders,
Unrelated Segments,
DJ Sneak,
The Velvet Underground,
Bill Near,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Tim Buckley,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bob Dylan,
UT,
the Normal,
Minny Pops,
John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx.
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.