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 Madagascar and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Cure to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Basic Channel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Schoolly D,
Boredoms,
Gabor Szabo,
B.T. Express,
The Associates,
The Flesh Eaters,
Joey Negro,
Television,
The Dirtbombs,
Fluxion,
Procol Harum,
Sun City Girls,
Erasure,
Bill Wells,
Animal Collective,
Johnny Clarke,
Pantaleimon,
Anthony Braxton,
KRS-One,
Sex Pistols,
The United States of America,
The Divine Comedy,
Urselle,
Scratch Acid,
The Invisible,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Basic Channel,
The Star Department,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Monks,
Metal Thangz,
The Velvet Underground,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Make Up,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Mummies,
Moss Icon,
The Motions,
Saccharine Trust,
Grauzone,
Kerrie Biddell,
Camouflage,
Jacob Miller,
The Sisters of Mercy,
the Bar-Kays,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Andrew Hill,
Bad Manners,
Outsiders,
These Immortal Souls,
Radiohead,
Fela Kuti,
Scientists,
Eurythmics,
Arab on Radar,
Harry Pussy,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Lucky Dragons,
Judy Mowatt,
Michelle Simonal,
Dave Gahan,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.