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 Brazil and from Houston.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Howard Jones to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Tropical Tobacco. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The J.B.'s 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Josef K record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Altered Images,
The Litter,
The Angels of Light,
MC5,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Max Romeo,
Harry Pussy,
Tim Buckley,
Bobby Womack,
Popol Vuh,
Sparks,
The Skatalites,
Deadbeat,
Oneida,
Toni Rubio,
Scratch Acid,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Trumans Water,
Hasil Adkins,
James Chance & The Contortions,
U.S. Maple,
Scan 7,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lucky Dragons,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Marc Almond,
Mars,
The Evens,
Rod Modell,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Doobie Brothers,
Rakim,
Aaron Thompson,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Drive Like Jehu,
Joey Negro,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Icehouse,
The Mojo Men,
Rekid,
Peter and Kerry,
Crash Course in Science,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Basic Channel,
Harpers Bizarre,
Supertramp,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Quantec,
Jeff Lynne,
the Bar-Kays,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Al Stewart,
Tom Boy,
Bluetip,
Animal Collective,
Jawbox,
The Happenings,
Interpol,
The New Christs,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson.
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.