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 Turkmenistan and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 arpeggiator 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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo to the techno 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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All Kaleidoscope tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
Junior Murvin,
The Beau Brummels,
Sonic Youth,
Symarip,
Circle Jerks,
Nico,
Youth Brigade,
Pussy Galore,
Grey Daturas,
The Fire Engines,
The Gladiators,
Heaven 17,
The Human League,
The Victims,
Tomorrow,
Iggy Pop,
Crispian St. Peters,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Dave Gahan,
Sex Pistols,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
the Human League,
Whodini,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Fluxion,
Amazonics,
Rakim,
The Knickerbockers,
Erasure,
Groovy Waters,
Judy Mowatt,
The Blues Magoos,
Icehouse,
OOIOO,
Barbara Tucker,
Crooked Eye,
Maurizio,
Crispy Ambulance,
Cymande,
Bush Tetras,
Jandek,
The Invisible,
The Durutti Column,
The Five Americans,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Magazine,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Fuzztones,
Angry Samoans,
Jerry's Kids,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Camouflage,
The Fortunes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Birthday Party,
Mandrill,
These Immortal Souls,
Ohio Players,
Popol Vuh,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Moody Blues,
Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger.
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.