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 Seychelles and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Little Man to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Associates. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Judy Mowatt 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hardrive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Beau Brummels,
The Happenings,
Lyres,
The Walker Brothers,
The Young Rascals,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Wally Richardson,
The Standells,
Mission of Burma,
Circle Jerks,
The Leaves,
Scion,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Marshall Jefferson,
The J.B.'s,
Davy DMX,
The Human League,
Moss Icon,
Young Marble Giants,
Rites of Spring,
The Dirtbombs,
Drexciya,
Dual Sessions,
The Moody Blues,
Alphaville,
Pere Ubu,
Eurythmics,
Mark Hollis,
Patti Smith,
Reuben Wilson,
E-Dancer,
Surgeon,
The Stooges,
The New Christs,
Guru Guru,
The Martian,
Lucky Dragons,
The Offenders,
U.S. Maple,
Theoretical Girls,
Neil Young,
Jacques Brel,
Interpol,
Oneida,
Banda Bassotti,
Q65,
Althea and Donna,
Cal Tjader,
Blossom Toes,
the Slits,
Amazonics,
Crispian St. Peters,
DJ Style,
Magazine,
The Fall,
ABBA,
Ice-T,
Altered Images,
Kayak,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.