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 Niger and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 theremin 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 Freddie Wadling to the dance 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 Black Sheep. All the underground hits.
All Gary Puckett & The Union Gap tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Trojans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DeepChord presents Echospace record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Easy Going,
The Happenings,
Wally Richardson,
Wings,
Iggy Pop,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Gang of Four,
Excepter,
Robert Hood,
Rekid,
The Raincoats,
Soft Cell,
The Smoke,
Deadbeat,
Amon Düül II,
the Human League,
In Retrospect,
Eli Mardock,
Harmonia,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Khruangbin,
The Seeds,
Parry Music,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Spandau Ballet,
Little Man,
Goldenarms,
Reuben Wilson,
Girls At Our Best!,
Davy DMX,
the Germs,
OOIOO,
Warren Ellis,
Lungfish,
Yaz,
Piero Umiliani,
The Angels of Light,
The Blues Magoos,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Real Kids,
Scion,
Kenny Larkin,
Sugar Minott,
Public Enemy,
Darondo,
Shuggie Otis,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The American Breed,
Skriet,
Janne Schatter,
Rotary Connection,
DJ Sneak,
Stockholm Monsters,
Anakelly,
Y Pants,
Stetsasonic,
The Young Rascals,
Shoche,
Chris Corsano,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.