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 Spain and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Mighty Diamonds to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Saints. All the underground hits.
All kango's stein massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Cecil Taylor,
Frankie Knuckles,
ABBA,
Skriet,
Nick Fraelich,
Monolake,
Ituana,
Little Man,
Loose Ends,
Wally Richardson,
Faust,
Radiopuhelimet,
Derrick Morgan,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bobby Byrd,
Subhumans,
The Misunderstood,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Neon Judgement,
Malaria!,
Barbara Tucker,
Camberwell Now,
Jandek,
Main Source,
Can,
Adolescents,
Rod Modell,
Ossler,
Josef K,
The Five Americans,
Robert Hood,
Gastr Del Sol,
Arab on Radar,
Flamin' Groovies,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Fire Engines,
Alison Limerick,
Khruangbin,
Matthew Halsall,
Carl Craig,
Charles Mingus,
PIL,
Roxy Music,
The Birthday Party,
Al Stewart,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Skatalites,
Los Fastidios,
Rekid,
The Blues Magoos,
Sparks,
Iggy Pop,
Pierre Henry,
Crooked Eye,
Sixth Finger,
Shuggie Otis,
Tim Buckley,
Make Up,
Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke.
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.