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 Cyprus and from Jakarta.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 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 James White and The Blacks to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Ronan. All the underground hits.
All PIL tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Eric Copeland,
Gang of Four,
Amon Düül II,
Soft Machine,
Alice Coltrane,
The Neon Judgement,
Tomorrow,
The Buckinghams,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Marc Almond,
Visage,
Khruangbin,
Gichy Dan,
Au Pairs,
Angry Samoans,
Lalann,
Harry Pussy,
Andrew Hill,
Ohio Players,
The Dirtbombs,
The Kinks,
The Smiths,
The Velvet Underground,
Janne Schatter,
Gerry Rafferty,
Aswad,
Bang On A Can,
DJ Style,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Parry Music,
Robert Görl,
Bronski Beat,
Scott Walker,
Masters at Work,
Aural Exciters,
Man Parrish,
The Invisible,
Infiniti,
Pagans,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Al Stewart,
The Cure,
Marine Girls,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Human League,
The Skatalites,
Minutemen,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Piero Umiliani,
Mr. Review,
Jacob Miller,
The Residents,
Bobby Sherman,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bobby Womack,
The Dave Clark Five,
L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne.
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.