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 Mali and from Tokyo.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 The Electric Prunes to the rap 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 Banda Bassotti. All the underground hits.
All Art Ensemble Of Chicago tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lizzy Mercier Descloux record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
The Alarm Clocks,
Outsiders,
the Fania All-Stars,
Smog,
Swans,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sonny Sharrock,
Rekid,
Faust,
The Walker Brothers,
Yazoo,
Talk Talk,
The Sound,
Eden Ahbez,
The Sonics,
Pulsallama,
Brothers Johnson,
Godley & Creme,
Adolescents,
Electric Prunes,
The Moody Blues,
The Cure,
kango's stein massive,
Graham Central Station,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Country Teasers,
D'Angelo,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ten City,
Young Marble Giants,
James White and The Blacks,
Gastr Del Sol,
Mr. Review,
Junior Murvin,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Funky Four + One,
Jesper Dahlback,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Shadows of Knight,
Marvin Gaye,
Eric Dolphy,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gerry Rafferty,
Cluster,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
F. McDonald,
Thompson Twins,
The Dave Clark Five,
Radiohead,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Cramps,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Saccharine Trust,
Boogie Down Productions,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy.
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.