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 Lebanon and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 linndrum 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 Flipper to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Five Americans,
Michelle Simonal,
Harry Pussy,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Gil Scott Heron,
X-102,
Janne Schatter,
a-ha,
Thee Headcoats,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Techniques,
Goldenarms,
Slick Rick,
Interpol,
Todd Rundgren,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Wasted Youth,
Gang Green,
Ultra Naté,
The Trojans,
Ohio Players,
Judy Mowatt,
Thompson Twins,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Althea and Donna,
Ludus,
Pole,
Kayak,
Dark Day,
Donald Byrd,
Underground Resistance,
Shuggie Otis,
Pagans,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Dirtbombs,
Marshall Jefferson,
the Bar-Kays,
Soul Sonic Force,
ABBA,
Sister Nancy,
David Bowie,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Newcleus,
Desert Stars,
DJ Sneak,
Lalann,
The Golliwogs,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Make Up,
L. Decosne,
New York Dolls,
Carl Craig,
The Fugs,
Bootsy Collins,
Young Marble Giants,
The Martian,
Bluetip,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Neil Young,
Black Bananas,
These Immortal Souls,
Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt.
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.