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 Cameroon and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Lagos.
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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Zeros to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All The Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stetsasonic 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quantec,
Stetsasonic,
The Saints,
Public Enemy,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Evens,
Anthony Braxton,
Reagan Youth,
Ken Boothe,
Johnny Clarke,
Con Funk Shun,
Kayak,
F. McDonald,
Marmalade,
Vladislav Delay,
Fela Kuti,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Grauzone,
Tom Boy,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Rekid,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Harmonia,
Nick Fraelich,
Loose Ends,
Kerri Chandler,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Selecter,
Von Mondo,
The Electric Prunes,
Negative Approach,
Boredoms,
Duran Duran,
Graham Central Station,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Angels of Light,
Urselle,
The Seeds,
Organ,
Fatback Band,
Terry Callier,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Gun Club,
Robert Hood,
Thompson Twins,
Bang On A Can,
The Happenings,
Chrome,
Mantronix,
Howard Jones,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sonny Sharrock,
Gang Gang Dance,
Fear,
Groovy Waters,
The Vogues,
Rotary Connection,
Suburban Knight,
Sexual Harrassment,
Tommy Roe,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band.
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.