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 Somalia and from Sao Paulo.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Monks to the jazz 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 Echo & the Bunnymen. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
The Pretty Things,
Graham Central Station,
Das Ding,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Eden Ahbez,
The Dave Clark Five,
Nation of Ulysses,
Joyce Sims,
Darondo,
The Tremeloes,
The Stooges,
FM Einheit,
Television Personalities,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
K-Klass,
Warsaw,
Reuben Wilson,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Pagans,
The Doobie Brothers,
Icehouse,
Nirvana,
Pantytec,
L. Decosne,
The Seeds,
Quando Quango,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Aloha Tigers,
Judy Mowatt,
New Order,
Ossler,
Heaven 17,
Man Eating Sloth,
Donny Hathaway,
Infiniti,
Urselle,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Sun City Girls,
Negative Approach,
Alton Ellis,
Angry Samoans,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Sonny Sharrock,
Quantec,
Althea and Donna,
H. Thieme,
Skaos,
Sound Behaviour,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Joey Negro,
Amazonics,
Massinfluence,
Index,
Lalo Schifrin,
Rufus Thomas,
A Certain Ratio,
Lalann,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan.
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.