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 Ethiopia and from Paris.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Country Joe & The Fish to the electroclash 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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All The Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
This Heat,
Archie Shepp,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Aswad,
Grey Daturas,
The Dead C,
Lakeside,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Roxy Music,
Bobby Sherman,
Pussy Galore,
Motorama,
ABBA,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Traffic Nightmare,
DNA,
Man Eating Sloth,
Stockholm Monsters,
Todd Rundgren,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Brick,
Roxette,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Drive Like Jehu,
Rufus Thomas,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Little Man,
Gabor Szabo,
The Associates,
Anakelly,
Kenny Larkin,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mars,
Reuben Wilson,
Black Moon,
New Order,
David McCallum,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Five Americans,
Sonny Sharrock,
F. McDonald,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Barclay James Harvest,
Stiv Bators,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Deadbeat,
Hardrive,
The Kinks,
The Neon Judgement,
Steve Hackett,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Hoover,
the Association,
Nick Fraelich,
Michelle Simonal,
MC5,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Electric Prunes,
The Beau Brummels,
CMW,
Echospace,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.