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 India and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 H. Thieme to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Gian Franco Pienzio. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Urselle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siouxsie and the Banshees record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harpers Bizarre,
Procol Harum,
Scrapy,
X-Ray Spex,
The Seeds,
Severed Heads,
Qualms,
Pylon,
Fat Boys,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Joe Finger,
Mars,
Crash Course in Science,
Circle Jerks,
X-102,
Bootsy Collins,
The Gladiators,
Siglo XX,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
ABBA,
Gil Scott Heron,
Wolf Eyes,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sällskapet,
Scott Walker,
Kaleidoscope,
Lou Reed,
Adolescents,
Mark Hollis,
Von Mondo,
Fear,
Sam Rivers,
The Stooges,
Juan Atkins,
The Fortunes,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Suburban Knight,
Amon Düül,
Man Eating Sloth,
Metal Thangz,
The Divine Comedy,
H. Thieme,
Hardrive,
Infiniti,
Nik Kershaw,
Zapp,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Mr. Review,
Cal Tjader,
Model 500,
Gang Green,
PIL,
Radio Birdman,
Duran Duran,
Tim Buckley,
Man Parrish,
Gichy Dan,
The Grass Roots,
Newcleus,
Royal Trux,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282.
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.