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 South Sudan and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 Columbus and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 B.T. Express 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Banda Bassotti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amazonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a CMW record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mojo Men,
Stiv Bators,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
DJ Style,
The Fire Engines,
Freddie Wadling,
Dawn Penn,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ponytail,
Roxette,
Ken Boothe,
The Skatalites,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lakeside,
Con Funk Shun,
Bang On A Can,
Mandrill,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Tubeway Army,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
cv313,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bootsy Collins,
R.M.O.,
The Litter,
E-Dancer,
Man Parrish,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bluetip,
Silicon Teens,
Quando Quango,
Jeff Lynne,
the Human League,
Easy Going,
The Moleskins,
Dual Sessions,
Desert Stars,
Swans,
The Velvet Underground,
Susan Cadogan,
Minnie Riperton,
The Monochrome Set,
Trumans Water,
Roxy Music,
The Dead C,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Monks,
The Moody Blues,
Graham Central Station,
Gang Green,
The United States of America,
Television Personalities,
Terry Callier,
Brick,
Bobby Byrd,
Kas Product,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Scientists,
Kurtis Blow,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.