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 Serbia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Holger Czukay 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 Judy Mowatt to the grunge 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 Reagan Youth. All the underground hits.
All The Gun Club tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bizarre Inc. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 808 and a sitar 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 mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Judy Mowatt,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Andrew Hill,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
MDC,
The Electric Prunes,
June Days,
The Neon Judgement,
Severed Heads,
Archie Shepp,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bobby Womack,
Lakeside,
Stockholm Monsters,
Neil Young,
Magma,
48th St. Collective,
Silicon Teens,
Scrapy,
Talk Talk,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
John Coltrane,
Mo-Dettes,
Kaleidoscope,
Yaz,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Unrelated Segments,
Lou Reed,
Warren Ellis,
Ponytail,
Gil Scott Heron,
Animal Collective,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Alison Limerick,
The Dead C,
Grandmaster Flash,
Inner City,
Arab on Radar,
Dave Gahan,
Sonny Sharrock,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Kool Moe Dee,
Terry Callier,
T. Rex,
David McCallum,
Suicide,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Cramps,
Nick Fraelich,
Bill Wells,
Khruangbin,
Von Mondo,
Franke,
The United States of America,
F. McDonald,
Sun City Girls,
Tropical Tobacco,
Rotary Connection,
The Techniques,
Cymande,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Al Stewart,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.