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 Chad and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Tehran.
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 marimba 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 Rites of Spring to the electroclash 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 Fad Gadget. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Leaves,
Soulsonic Force,
Television Personalities,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Malaria!,
Accadde A,
Agitation Free,
Absolute Body Control,
Khruangbin,
The Five Americans,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ten City,
Eric Copeland,
A Certain Ratio,
Matthew Bourne,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bobby Byrd,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Swans,
Oneida,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Buckinghams,
ABC,
Todd Terry,
10cc,
Drexciya,
Swell Maps,
Joensuu 1685,
Dual Sessions,
Subhumans,
Godley & Creme,
Pole,
The Beau Brummels,
Bill Near,
The Fall,
Robert Hood,
Curtis Mayfield,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Los Fastidios,
Sister Nancy,
Gang Starr,
Drive Like Jehu,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Minutemen,
The Misunderstood,
Glenn Branca,
U.S. Maple,
The Slits,
Erasure,
Barrington Levy,
Intrusion,
Stetsasonic,
Liliput,
Harpers Bizarre,
Brand Nubian,
Andrew Hill,
Smog,
The Residents,
DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak.
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.