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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Philadelphia.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Hardrive. All the underground hits.
All In Retrospect tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Bar-Kays record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Guru Guru,
L. Decosne,
The Flesh Eaters,
Scientists,
Tubeway Army,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Cowsills,
The Fuzztones,
Deepchord,
China Crisis,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bad Manners,
The Misunderstood,
Quando Quango,
Nico,
John Lydon,
Thompson Twins,
Adolescents,
Kayak,
Pole,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Eve St. Jones,
The Smoke,
Maleditus Sound,
Outsiders,
Bill Near,
The Barracudas,
Rosa Yemen,
Tom Boy,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Harry Pussy,
Laurel Aitken,
the Germs,
Moebius,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Vladislav Delay,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Eden Ahbez,
Gang Green,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Trojans,
Ten City,
Steve Hackett,
The Divine Comedy,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Stiv Bators,
the Soft Cell,
Traffic Nightmare,
Aloha Tigers,
Dorothy Ashby,
Fat Boys,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Underground Resistance,
The Vogues,
David Bowie,
Deakin,
Dave Gahan,
Ultravox,
Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna.
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.