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 Bangladesh and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 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 Flash Fearless to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Stockholm Monsters. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rufus Thomas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cameo,
Guru Guru,
Jeru the Damaja,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Tommy Roe,
Stetsasonic,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
John Cale,
MDC,
The Index,
Zapp,
cv313,
8 Eyed Spy,
Main Source,
the Fania All-Stars,
Henry Cow,
Hardrive,
Cheater Slicks,
Monks,
Lower 48,
Rapeman,
The Searchers,
Pussy Galore,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pharoah Sanders,
Harry Pussy,
The Red Krayola,
Sex Pistols,
Scan 7,
Marine Girls,
L. Decosne,
Parry Music,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Flash Fearless,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Eden Ahbez,
Derrick May,
New Order,
The Vogues,
The Invisible,
CMW,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Icehouse,
Sister Nancy,
Lalann,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
China Crisis,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Oblivians,
Cymande,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Flamin' Groovies,
Simply Red,
Saccharine Trust,
Metal Thangz,
Fad Gadget,
Erasure,
Sparks,
PIL,
Black Flag,
The Dave Clark Five,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt.
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.