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 Malawi and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 spring reverb 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 The Dead C to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Funky Four + One. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Curtis Mayfield,
Donny Hathaway,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Lee Hazlewood,
Yaz,
New Age Steppers,
New Order,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bobby Byrd,
Iggy Pop,
Rod Modell,
Cal Tjader,
The Remains,
Schoolly D,
Khruangbin,
Cluster,
Guru Guru,
Amon Düül,
Carl Craig,
Lower 48,
The Angels of Light,
Johnny Clarke,
The Evens,
Niagra,
The Real Kids,
Minny Pops,
Barbara Tucker,
Symarip,
The Moleskins,
The Gap Band,
Moss Icon,
Pulsallama,
Talk Talk,
The Kinks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Sällskapet,
John Coltrane,
Fela Kuti,
Stockholm Monsters,
Reuben Wilson,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Mark Hollis,
The Selecter,
Gang Gang Dance,
Youth Brigade,
Oneida,
Mantronix,
Anthony Braxton,
Pet Shop Boys,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Circle Jerks,
Mars,
The New Christs,
Sister Nancy,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Livin' Joy,
These Immortal Souls,
Pantaleimon,
Marmalade,
Zero Boys,
Black Pus,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.