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 Greece and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Sixth Finger to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Interpol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Leaves record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Terry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
Boogie Down Productions,
X-102,
The Moleskins,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Last Poets,
Lightning Bolt,
Erasure,
The Flesh Eaters,
Roy Ayers,
June Days,
Arthur Verocai,
Marc Almond,
Goldenarms,
DNA,
Loose Ends,
The Smoke,
Ronnie Foster,
Byron Stingily,
Audionom,
Shoche,
Soul II Soul,
Cecil Taylor,
U.S. Maple,
Michelle Simonal,
Minutemen,
Harpers Bizarre,
Dave Gahan,
Robert Hood,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
the Sonics,
Tropical Tobacco,
Organ,
Hashim,
Fluxion,
Roxette,
Skarface,
Wire,
Man Parrish,
Excepter,
Rakim,
Deepchord,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Magma,
PIL,
Con Funk Shun,
Blossom Toes,
Jeff Lynne,
L. Decosne,
The Sonics,
Lalann,
Lungfish,
Bang On A Can,
New Age Steppers,
Ludus,
ABC,
Leonard Cohen,
Rufus Thomas,
T. Rex,
Bootsy Collins,
Ponytail,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.