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 Papua New Guinea and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 clarinet 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 a-ha to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Kurtis Blow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
Saccharine Trust,
Amazonics,
Franke,
Ice-T,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Buckinghams,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Juan Atkins,
The Fall,
The Searchers,
Talk Talk,
Erykah Badu,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Monks,
Fela Kuti,
Ken Boothe,
Nation of Ulysses,
Nirvana,
Camberwell Now,
Johnny Clarke,
The Techniques,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Beau Brummels,
Radio Birdman,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Joe Smooth,
Prince Buster,
The Knickerbockers,
John Foxx,
Junior Murvin,
D'Angelo,
Lalo Schifrin,
Qualms,
B.T. Express,
Brothers Johnson,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Rhythm & Sound,
Mark Hollis,
E-Dancer,
Lungfish,
Stereo Dub,
Colin Newman,
The Move,
Kool Moe Dee,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Nils Olav,
AZ,
Blancmange,
Agent Orange,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Lakeside,
Sister Nancy,
Lyres,
Gang Gang Dance,
cv313,
The Remains,
Danielle Patucci,
Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding.
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.