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 Indonesia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Moleskins to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Fugazi. All the underground hits.
All Sarah Menescal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Albert Ayler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Deadbeat,
Gabor Szabo,
Janne Schatter,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Patti Smith,
Shoche,
Bang On A Can,
Yusef Lateef,
The Invisible,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Happenings,
Soulsonic Force,
Mars,
The Wake,
Grey Daturas,
Blancmange,
Man Eating Sloth,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Iggy Pop,
Slick Rick,
These Immortal Souls,
Angry Samoans,
Blake Baxter,
Sexual Harrassment,
Radiohead,
Boz Scaggs,
Crooked Eye,
Jesper Dahlback,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Slackers,
Black Bananas,
Hardrive,
The Gories,
The Victims,
Nas,
Idris Muhammad,
Bluetip,
The Remains,
Sight & Sound,
Judy Mowatt,
Schoolly D,
Procol Harum,
Bob Dylan,
Avey Tare,
the Fania All-Stars,
Soft Cell,
The Star Department,
Guru Guru,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Wasted Youth,
LL Cool J,
UT,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Joey Negro,
cv313,
Scrapy,
Rufus Thomas,
Wire,
Barrington Levy,
Scan 7,
The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers.
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.