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 Algeria and from Beijing.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Traffic Nightmare to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Echo & the Bunnymen. All the underground hits.
All The Sisters of Mercy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moebius record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grey Daturas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
James White and The Blacks,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Cybotron,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Wally Richardson,
Albert Ayler,
World's Most,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Marine Girls,
X-Ray Spex,
Arcadia,
Motorama,
The Trojans,
Sarah Menescal,
The Last Poets,
The Grass Roots,
The Neon Judgement,
Hot Snakes,
Eden Ahbez,
Aloha Tigers,
The Count Five,
Stiv Bators,
The Index,
Joe Smooth,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Gladiators,
Todd Rundgren,
Lee Hazlewood,
Aural Exciters,
Hoover,
Fat Boys,
Pantaleimon,
Wolf Eyes,
the Soft Cell,
Fear,
Jesper Dahlback,
Marc Almond,
Nico,
Echospace,
Bobby Womack,
Bluetip,
Radiohead,
Lindisfarne,
Anakelly,
Intrusion,
Minny Pops,
Glenn Branca,
Young Marble Giants,
The Kinks,
Rakim,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ponytail,
Wings,
a-ha,
Crime,
The Cramps,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Fortunes,
Bootsy Collins,
Smog,
Eve St. Jones,
Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer.
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.