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 Venezuela and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Cheater Slicks to the rap 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 Tropical Tobacco. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pop Group,
David Bowie,
The Smiths,
8 Eyed Spy,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Juan Atkins,
Pere Ubu,
Nik Kershaw,
Whodini,
The Kinks,
Trumans Water,
Newcleus,
In Retrospect,
The Birthday Party,
The Last Poets,
Tomorrow,
Arthur Verocai,
Sound Behaviour,
Man Eating Sloth,
Agitation Free,
The Monks,
Zapp,
Matthew Bourne,
David McCallum,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Lindisfarne,
John Lydon,
Heaven 17,
The Flesh Eaters,
Barclay James Harvest,
Youth Brigade,
Moebius,
Yellowson,
Leonard Cohen,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Urselle,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Television,
Mantronix,
Stiv Bators,
Marcia Griffiths,
Desert Stars,
Eurythmics,
Cameo,
Negative Approach,
Altered Images,
Black Pus,
Livin' Joy,
Sonic Youth,
John Foxx,
Deakin,
Pagans,
Pantaleimon,
Make Up,
Hoover,
cv313,
Minor Threat,
L. Decosne,
Ossler,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.