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 Kiribati and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 sitar 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 Suburban Knight to the grunge 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 Zero Boys. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Circle Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
Oblivians,
The Star Department,
CMW,
Johnny Osbourne,
Davy DMX,
Rapeman,
JFA,
F. McDonald,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Big Daddy Kane,
L. Decosne,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lightning Bolt,
Bootsy Collins,
Kerrie Biddell,
Fatback Band,
Sparks,
The Tremeloes,
The Mojo Men,
Girls At Our Best!,
Toni Rubio,
Sonny Sharrock,
In Retrospect,
Cybotron,
Sarah Menescal,
The Fire Engines,
The Misunderstood,
Boredoms,
Susan Cadogan,
The Walker Brothers,
Derrick Morgan,
Harry Pussy,
Stiv Bators,
This Heat,
Bad Manners,
Babytalk,
Angry Samoans,
Ronnie Foster,
The Trojans,
Hardrive,
Hot Snakes,
Dual Sessions,
Das Ding,
The Neon Judgement,
Thee Headcoats,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Electric Prunes,
Icehouse,
Thompson Twins,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Cecil Taylor,
Skriet,
Talk Talk,
Scan 7,
The Cramps,
kango's stein massive,
Mo-Dettes,
Johnny Clarke,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.