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 Moldova and from Taipei.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 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 Buckinghams to the rap 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 Crime. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Finger record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Invisible 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?
Rapeman,
Cal Tjader,
Amon Düül II,
Excepter,
Bronski Beat,
Marc Almond,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Last Poets,
Juan Atkins,
Surgeon,
Black Pus,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Hot Snakes,
The Monochrome Set,
Josef K,
La Düsseldorf,
Alice Coltrane,
Spoonie Gee,
Mandrill,
Zapp,
The Cure,
Section 25,
John Lydon,
Metal Thangz,
The Monks,
Gastr Del Sol,
Barbara Tucker,
Crime,
Bobby Byrd,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Fire Engines,
Minny Pops,
Black Bananas,
The Star Department,
Matthew Bourne,
Prince Buster,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Five Americans,
Pantytec,
Bauhaus,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Yusef Lateef,
Rakim,
L. Decosne,
Organ,
Ralphi Rosario,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Smoke,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Aloha Tigers,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sixth Finger,
Jacob Miller,
Morten Harket,
The Neon Judgement,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
John Holt,
Tropical Tobacco,
kango's stein massive,
Byron Stingily,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.