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 Uruguay and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Pantaleimon to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Darondo. All the underground hits.
All Leonard Cohen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerri Chandler 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Offenders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Q65,
Grauzone,
Swans,
Wally Richardson,
T.S.O.L.,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Jeru the Damaja,
Harry Pussy,
E-Dancer,
D'Angelo,
Subhumans,
Boz Scaggs,
Mo-Dettes,
World's Most,
Bill Wells,
Bad Manners,
Porter Ricks,
Main Source,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Newcleus,
Dorothy Ashby,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Fela Kuti,
Rotary Connection,
Au Pairs,
T. Rex,
Pole,
Buzzcocks,
Kas Product,
Model 500,
The Techniques,
Terrestrial Tones,
Brothers Johnson,
David Bowie,
Schoolly D,
Yusef Lateef,
Malaria!,
Tim Buckley,
Eddi Front,
David Axelrod,
Sandy B,
Kenny Larkin,
Oblivians,
Country Teasers,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Accadde A,
Black Pus,
Idris Muhammad,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Gladiators,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Los Fastidios,
The Knickerbockers,
Joy Division,
The Dirtbombs,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Fatback Band,
Kaleidoscope,
Lebanon Hanover,
LL Cool J,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Zeros,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.