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 Mongolia and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Subhumans to the rock 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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All The Tremeloes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oneida 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kevin Saunderson,
R.M.O.,
The Misunderstood,
Organ,
Lou Reed,
The Mojo Men,
Cal Tjader,
The Tremeloes,
Skaos,
Al Stewart,
The Slackers,
Patti Smith,
Suburban Knight,
The Red Krayola,
Easy Going,
Eli Mardock,
Metal Thangz,
Bill Wells,
Rotary Connection,
Ossler,
Black Pus,
Slave,
Unwound,
Dawn Penn,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Robert Wyatt,
Desert Stars,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Ohio Players,
The Neon Judgement,
Masters at Work,
Hashim,
Bobby Sherman,
The Zeros,
Motorama,
John Coltrane,
The Slits,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Outsiders,
The Knickerbockers,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Saints,
Scientists,
Radio Birdman,
X-101,
Throbbing Gristle,
Cheater Slicks,
The Mummies,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Detroit Cobras,
Jerry Gold Smith,
June Days,
Alton Ellis,
Hardrive,
The Busters,
Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers.
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.