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 Albania and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the snare 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Simply Red record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Stooges,
New Order,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Henry Cow,
Avey Tare,
Maleditus Sound,
Yazoo,
The American Breed,
Cecil Taylor,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Slick Rick,
The Mojo Men,
The United States of America,
Sun City Girls,
Country Teasers,
The Move,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Harpers Bizarre,
Prince Buster,
Piero Umiliani,
Jacques Brel,
David Axelrod,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Banda Bassotti,
L. Decosne,
The Buckinghams,
Con Funk Shun,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
PIL,
Ornette Coleman,
Aural Exciters,
The Selecter,
The Shadows of Knight,
Parry Music,
Eli Mardock,
June of 44,
Terrestrial Tones,
Joy Division,
Kerrie Biddell,
Janne Schatter,
48th St. Collective,
Metal Thangz,
Tears for Fears,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Echospace,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Soulsonic Force,
Rekid,
The Black Dice,
Harmonia,
David McCallum,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Smiths,
Cal Tjader,
Nirvana,
Bush Tetras,
Can,
La Düsseldorf,
Whodini,
Silicon Teens,
FM Einheit,
Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers.
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.