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 Iran and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Donald Fagen 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 Ralphi Rosario to the dance 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 Minutemen. All the underground hits.
All Lizzy Mercier Descloux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jimmy McGriff record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Eli Mardock,
MDC,
Urselle,
Slave,
Connie Case,
Simply Red,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
DJ Style,
Adolescents,
The Offenders,
the Bar-Kays,
Cal Tjader,
Matthew Bourne,
ABC,
Alphaville,
Darondo,
Japan,
Heaven 17,
FM Einheit,
the Slits,
Pagans,
Depeche Mode,
Gerry Rafferty,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Alarm Clocks,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Jacques Brel,
Skriet,
Fatback Band,
Visage,
Black Pus,
OOIOO,
Cameo,
Roxette,
Panda Bear,
The Sonics,
Sex Pistols,
Patti Smith,
Josef K,
Hot Snakes,
Public Enemy,
Prince Buster,
The Slits,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Echospace,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Black Bananas,
Cecil Taylor,
Deepchord,
LL Cool J,
The Searchers,
Danielle Patucci,
Newcleus,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
John Foxx,
The Gories,
Terrestrial Tones,
Cheater Slicks,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
John Cale,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.