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 Jamaica and from Accra.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 clarinet 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 Stockholm Monsters to the dance 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 In Retrospect. All the underground hits.
All Fort Wilson Riot tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Maurizio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Fela Kuti,
Janne Schatter,
Magma,
Sparks,
Isaac Hayes,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Doors,
Tim Buckley,
Ken Boothe,
The Flesh Eaters,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Pussy Galore,
Rosa Yemen,
Tropical Tobacco,
Supertramp,
Ituana,
Wings,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ice-T,
Davy DMX,
Reuben Wilson,
Soulsonic Force,
Soft Machine,
Television Personalities,
The Music Machine,
K-Klass,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Subhumans,
Popol Vuh,
The Young Rascals,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Mission of Burma,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Shoche,
Bang On A Can,
Swans,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Buckinghams,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Sound,
Arab on Radar,
The Real Kids,
The Stooges,
The Blues Magoos,
Black Moon,
Pulsallama,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Nick Fraelich,
Leonard Cohen,
Yellowson,
Faraquet,
Amon Düül,
Negative Approach,
Mo-Dettes,
One Last Wish,
The Toasters,
Boz Scaggs,
Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose.
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.