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 Albania and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Franke to the crunk 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 Larry & the Blue Notes. All the underground hits.
All Vaughan Mason & Crew tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doors record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crash Course in Science record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Young Rascals,
Barry Ungar,
the Slits,
Pantaleimon,
The Dead C,
Curtis Mayfield,
Magma,
Kurtis Blow,
Harry Pussy,
Black Flag,
Amazonics,
Malaria!,
The Skatalites,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Dual Sessions,
Soulsonic Force,
John Lydon,
Albert Ayler,
Panda Bear,
Charles Mingus,
Laurel Aitken,
Tom Boy,
Niagra,
Hot Snakes,
Matthew Bourne,
Piero Umiliani,
Kevin Saunderson,
Smog,
Bauhaus,
The Kinks,
Whodini,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Easy Going,
Lebanon Hanover,
Scratch Acid,
Au Pairs,
Scion,
Colin Newman,
Bobby Byrd,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Livin' Joy,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bronski Beat,
Pet Shop Boys,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Wire,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gang Starr,
Hasil Adkins,
Clear Light,
Radiopuhelimet,
Alice Coltrane,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Con Funk Shun,
Warsaw,
Boz Scaggs,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Marshall Jefferson,
Gang Green,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Cramps,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.