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 Tajikistan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Sisters of Mercy to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All The Selecter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Con Funk Shun record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
Rakim,
Sun City Girls,
T. Rex,
Harry Pussy,
Pierre Henry,
Darondo,
The Grass Roots,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Popol Vuh,
The Gories,
Royal Trux,
Suburban Knight,
Siglo XX,
The Mummies,
Roxy Music,
Icehouse,
Pere Ubu,
Rhythm & Sound,
Parry Music,
Public Enemy,
Skriet,
Alice Coltrane,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Fluxion,
Hardrive,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Marmalade,
Jimmy McGriff,
Cymande,
The Divine Comedy,
Absolute Body Control,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Godley & Creme,
Byron Stingily,
Joe Finger,
Supertramp,
Underground Resistance,
Gabor Szabo,
Black Bananas,
Rotary Connection,
Eric Dolphy,
Scion,
The Doobie Brothers,
Aural Exciters,
Grauzone,
John Coltrane,
Stiv Bators,
Johnny Clarke,
Pylon,
Glambeats Corp.,
Monolake,
Cheater Slicks,
These Immortal Souls,
Ossler,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Birthday Party,
PIL,
Zero Boys,
Arcadia,
Marc Almond,
Pulsallama,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.