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 Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 arpeggiator 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 Iggy Pop to the funk 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 Scan 7. All the underground hits.
All Marine Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Babytalk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Beasts of Bourbon,
Deakin,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
L. Decosne,
Franke,
Black Bananas,
Crime,
K-Klass,
Y Pants,
Joe Smooth,
Black Moon,
Scratch Acid,
Average White Band,
Suburban Knight,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Dawn Penn,
Crispian St. Peters,
Hasil Adkins,
FM Einheit,
The Buckinghams,
The Mummies,
The Neon Judgement,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Motions,
Charles Mingus,
Royal Trux,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Flamin' Groovies,
MDC,
Anakelly,
Organ,
Das Ding,
Glenn Branca,
The Gun Club,
Tommy Roe,
Television,
Au Pairs,
Amon Düül,
Bob Dylan,
Severed Heads,
Funkadelic,
Mission of Burma,
The Detroit Cobras,
the Slits,
Todd Rundgren,
The Moody Blues,
The Star Department,
Jeff Mills,
Bush Tetras,
Joe Finger,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Colin Newman,
Popol Vuh,
Blossom Toes,
Accadde A,
Max Romeo,
Spandau Ballet,
Absolute Body Control,
Quantec,
Make Up,
DJ Style,
Sun Ra,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.