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 Estonia and from Tokyo.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 theremin 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 Moebius to the electroclash 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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All Skaos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Larry & the Blue Notes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suburban Knight record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Davy DMX,
The Evens,
Sarah Menescal,
Hot Snakes,
The Real Kids,
Johnny Clarke,
Maurizio,
Bobby Byrd,
Eli Mardock,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Slick Rick,
Blancmange,
Black Sheep,
Lower 48,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Mo-Dettes,
Blossom Toes,
Sonny Sharrock,
Khruangbin,
Simply Red,
Lindisfarne,
Clear Light,
Swell Maps,
Warsaw,
Index,
John Coltrane,
Rites of Spring,
Von Mondo,
Skriet,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Dorothy Ashby,
Black Moon,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Doobie Brothers,
DJ Sneak,
Ultimate Spinach,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ultra Naté,
Kerrie Biddell,
Blake Baxter,
Television Personalities,
The Mojo Men,
The Searchers,
The Last Poets,
Alton Ellis,
Pantaleimon,
Visage,
Scion,
The J.B.'s,
The Mummies,
Joyce Sims,
June of 44,
Pere Ubu,
The Smoke,
Roxy Music,
Buzzcocks,
David McCallum,
Radiohead,
These Immortal Souls,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
World's Most,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.