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 Greece and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 oboe 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 James White and The Blacks to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 K-Klass. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Toasters 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sällskapet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Jeru the Damaja,
Excepter,
Sonic Youth,
Bauhaus,
Funkadelic,
Aaron Thompson,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Janne Schatter,
Drive Like Jehu,
Derrick May,
Qualms,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ponytail,
Fad Gadget,
Thee Headcoats,
B.T. Express,
Malaria!,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Gun Club,
The Smiths,
OOIOO,
Whodini,
Mandrill,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Grandmaster Flash,
Parry Music,
Vainqueur,
Mr. Review,
the Swans,
Basic Channel,
The Trojans,
Anthony Braxton,
Loose Ends,
Lightning Bolt,
Desert Stars,
Rapeman,
Can,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Yellowson,
Subhumans,
Joe Smooth,
These Immortal Souls,
Bobby Byrd,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Kinks,
Man Parrish,
Glenn Branca,
the Sonics,
In Retrospect,
New Order,
The Pop Group,
Angry Samoans,
Michelle Simonal,
The Toasters,
Howard Jones,
The Five Americans,
The Mummies,
Silicon Teens,
Ornette Coleman,
Ludus,
Massinfluence,
China Crisis,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.