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 Ukraine and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 snare 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 Blancmange to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Joensuu 1685. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boredoms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Selecter,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pere Ubu,
Ornette Coleman,
The Doobie Brothers,
Rosa Yemen,
Leonard Cohen,
Y Pants,
Tom Boy,
a-ha,
the Fania All-Stars,
Suburban Knight,
Thee Headcoats,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Todd Rundgren,
Bobby Womack,
Interpol,
Brick,
The Litter,
Symarip,
Vainqueur,
The Neon Judgement,
Monolake,
Bang On A Can,
John Foxx,
The Martian,
Dark Day,
Sight & Sound,
The Real Kids,
Pole,
The Cure,
The Shadows of Knight,
Von Mondo,
Black Bananas,
June of 44,
Davy DMX,
Parry Music,
Soul Sonic Force,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Charles Mingus,
Tears for Fears,
Essential Logic,
the Soft Cell,
Sugar Minott,
Wire,
Scott Walker,
The Moody Blues,
Morten Harket,
Grandmaster Flash,
Harry Pussy,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Faust,
Gong,
Harmonia,
Gabor Szabo,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Maleditus Sound,
Stiv Bators,
Saccharine Trust,
Marmalade,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.