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 Kosovo and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Kurtis Blow to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Crime. All the underground hits.
All Vaughan Mason & Crew tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jawbox record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
Adolescents,
Echospace,
The Smoke,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Neil Young,
The Litter,
Brand Nubian,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gerry Rafferty,
John Foxx,
Aloha Tigers,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
PIL,
Pharoah Sanders,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Deadbeat,
Second Layer,
Minnie Riperton,
Mary Jane Girls,
Depeche Mode,
The Vogues,
Rekid,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Motions,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Massinfluence,
The Victims,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Porter Ricks,
The Durutti Column,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bobby Womack,
Grey Daturas,
Spandau Ballet,
Wolf Eyes,
K-Klass,
Throbbing Gristle,
X-102,
Subhumans,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Hot Snakes,
Tommy Roe,
Lower 48,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Saints,
Leonard Cohen,
Al Stewart,
Reagan Youth,
Q65,
Delta 5,
U.S. Maple,
The Misunderstood,
Kool Moe Dee,
Cheater Slicks,
Urselle,
Radio Birdman,
Prince Buster,
Symarip,
Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub.
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.