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 Laos and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Last Poets to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Graham Central Station. All the underground hits.
All Deadbeat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blossom Toes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
Skaos,
Altered Images,
Pulsallama,
The Fuzztones,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Toasters,
Heaven 17,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Happenings,
The Modern Lovers,
Negative Approach,
The Tremeloes,
K-Klass,
June Days,
Henry Cow,
The Associates,
Fear,
Royal Trux,
Duran Duran,
T.S.O.L.,
The American Breed,
Minutemen,
The Standells,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Liliput,
Rhythm & Sound,
Lindisfarne,
Pantaleimon,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Gong,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Au Pairs,
T. Rex,
Traffic Nightmare,
June of 44,
New Age Steppers,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Last Poets,
Steve Hackett,
The Cowsills,
Camouflage,
The Monochrome Set,
A Certain Ratio,
Ralphi Rosario,
Grauzone,
Cal Tjader,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Robert Görl,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bauhaus,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Blake Baxter,
Dead Boys,
Desert Stars,
La Düsseldorf,
Saccharine Trust,
Little Man,
The Golliwogs,
Masters at Work,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.