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 East Timor and from Woodstock.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Cairo.
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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 10cc. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ice-T record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stereo Dub record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultra Naté,
The American Breed,
Lyres,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Maleditus Sound,
Dawn Penn,
Mad Mike,
Heaven 17,
Rites of Spring,
Cheater Slicks,
Throbbing Gristle,
Barbara Tucker,
Tomorrow,
Roxy Music,
Todd Rundgren,
Loose Ends,
Thee Headcoats,
Y Pants,
Hoover,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bang On A Can,
Flipper,
Youth Brigade,
Matthew Bourne,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Inner City,
Jacques Brel,
Liliput,
The Divine Comedy,
Television,
Agitation Free,
X-Ray Spex,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Supertramp,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Todd Terry,
Howard Jones,
Juan Atkins,
Whodini,
The Mummies,
Pylon,
The Stooges,
Adolescents,
T. Rex,
Stereo Dub,
Gang of Four,
Danielle Patucci,
Qualms,
Pantaleimon,
PIL,
Pere Ubu,
Davy DMX,
Nik Kershaw,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Guru Guru,
the Bar-Kays,
Morten Harket,
The Detroit Cobras,
Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron.
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.