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 Afghanistan and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Gories to the rap 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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Freddie Wadling,
Joy Division,
Tomorrow,
The Dead C,
Pierre Henry,
Bush Tetras,
The Slackers,
MDC,
Donny Hathaway,
The Cramps,
Robert Hood,
World's Most,
Popol Vuh,
Sight & Sound,
The Pretty Things,
Nik Kershaw,
Fat Boys,
A Certain Ratio,
The Velvet Underground,
Soft Cell,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Neon Judgement,
Blake Baxter,
Scratch Acid,
Skarface,
Sexual Harrassment,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Durutti Column,
Tropical Tobacco,
Deepchord,
Section 25,
Flash Fearless,
Simply Red,
Intrusion,
Kas Product,
F. McDonald,
Patti Smith,
Ultra Naté,
Easy Going,
Wally Richardson,
Danielle Patucci,
The Flesh Eaters,
David Bowie,
Lee Hazlewood,
Alice Coltrane,
The Misunderstood,
Unwound,
Crooked Eye,
Crime,
The Last Poets,
Jacques Brel,
The Modern Lovers,
Warren Ellis,
Faust,
Derrick Morgan,
the Fania All-Stars,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Boogie Down Productions,
Moss Icon,
the Sonics,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Young Rascals,
Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones.
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.