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 Bhutan and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and London.
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 güiro 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 Matthew Halsall to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Yusef Lateef. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a One Last Wish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Happenings,
Johnny Osbourne,
Black Bananas,
Harpers Bizarre,
Archie Shepp,
Pussy Galore,
Deakin,
Eden Ahbez,
Scrapy,
Al Stewart,
Lou Reed,
the Fania All-Stars,
Fad Gadget,
Monks,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Harry Pussy,
The Raincoats,
Intrusion,
Royal Trux,
Joy Division,
Outsiders,
Supertramp,
The Moleskins,
Ronnie Foster,
Pantaleimon,
Bill Wells,
Desert Stars,
In Retrospect,
Howard Jones,
AZ,
Pulsallama,
Tim Buckley,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
This Heat,
Boz Scaggs,
Boredoms,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Reagan Youth,
Bob Dylan,
The Five Americans,
Tom Boy,
Simply Red,
Panda Bear,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Rhythm & Sound,
Cymande,
UT,
The Saints,
Don Cherry,
Fluxion,
Brand Nubian,
JFA,
The Angels of Light,
X-101,
Reuben Wilson,
Ken Boothe,
Rosa Yemen,
The Fugs,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.