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 Gambia and from Madrid.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 organ 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 Harry Pussy 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 The Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vaughan Mason & Crew record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
L. Decosne,
Charles Mingus,
Slave,
Lou Christie,
The Toasters,
The Smiths,
Cal Tjader,
Mission of Burma,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sonny Sharrock,
Unrelated Segments,
The Red Krayola,
The Fuzztones,
Peter and Kerry,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bronski Beat,
Flamin' Groovies,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Circle Jerks,
Vainqueur,
John Cale,
The Sonics,
Brass Construction,
Hardrive,
The Birthday Party,
Banda Bassotti,
Yellowson,
The Searchers,
CMW,
The Fall,
Index,
Radiohead,
Average White Band,
Flipper,
Visage,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bobby Womack,
Piero Umiliani,
Siglo XX,
Minor Threat,
Patti Smith,
The Pretty Things,
Jacques Brel,
Aswad,
The New Christs,
Gabor Szabo,
Drexciya,
The Black Dice,
Soft Cell,
Masters at Work,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Hashim,
The Misunderstood,
Bauhaus,
Toni Rubio,
Johnny Clarke,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
the Sonics,
Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson.
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.