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 Belgium and from Manchester.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Moleskins to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All The Gories tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amazonics,
Minor Threat,
The Electric Prunes,
Max Romeo,
The Last Poets,
Parry Music,
Hot Snakes,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ice-T,
The Busters,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Divine Comedy,
Spoonie Gee,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Crash Course in Science,
X-Ray Spex,
Gichy Dan,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Wire,
Mary Jane Girls,
Cheater Slicks,
The Gladiators,
The Gun Club,
Wolf Eyes,
Dennis Brown,
David McCallum,
Mantronix,
Minny Pops,
The Dead C,
The Trojans,
Interpol,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
KRS-One,
Young Marble Giants,
Yusef Lateef,
Bad Manners,
Severed Heads,
Rosa Yemen,
Juan Atkins,
The Doors,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Sonics,
Babytalk,
The Buckinghams,
The Smoke,
ABC,
Cluster,
Colin Newman,
Tropical Tobacco,
Clear Light,
Jeff Lynne,
Buzzcocks,
Popol Vuh,
Unrelated Segments,
T. Rex,
Ten City,
Maleditus Sound,
Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless.
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.