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 South Sudan and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 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 The Doors to the rap 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 Slits. All the underground hits.
All World's Most tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacques Brel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
Lalann,
Technova,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Half Japanese,
Suburban Knight,
Peter & Gordon,
Todd Terry,
Ronan,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
X-101,
Roxette,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Barracudas,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sugar Minott,
Youth Brigade,
Quadrant,
The Seeds,
The Toasters,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Leaves,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Joe Finger,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pierre Henry,
Tim Buckley,
Susan Cadogan,
Jerry's Kids,
The American Breed,
John Holt,
Soul II Soul,
Fatback Band,
Kool Moe Dee,
Wasted Youth,
These Immortal Souls,
Bang On A Can,
Marvin Gaye,
Yusef Lateef,
Ituana,
Eve St. Jones,
Barclay James Harvest,
Television,
Bootsy Collins,
Joe Smooth,
Delon & Dalcan,
Saccharine Trust,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Severed Heads,
The Dirtbombs,
The Fall,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Happenings,
Lower 48,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.