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 Grenada and from Manila.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 arpeggiator 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Parry Music. All the underground hits.
All Babytalk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Adolescents record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mandrill,
Porter Ricks,
Boredoms,
the Sonics,
Grauzone,
The Count Five,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Smog,
Adolescents,
The Birthday Party,
Ken Boothe,
John Coltrane,
Tomorrow,
Panda Bear,
Absolute Body Control,
Arcadia,
KRS-One,
Letta Mbulu,
Fad Gadget,
Stereo Dub,
Kerri Chandler,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
One Last Wish,
The Associates,
Pulsallama,
Vladislav Delay,
Main Source,
Qualms,
Franke,
Stetsasonic,
Zapp,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Sound,
Rapeman,
Davy DMX,
LL Cool J,
The Grass Roots,
UT,
Popol Vuh,
E-Dancer,
Minutemen,
Cymande,
Guru Guru,
Hardrive,
Don Cherry,
Agent Orange,
Radiopuhelimet,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Gil Scott Heron,
Scrapy,
Mission of Burma,
Suicide,
Roxette,
The Young Rascals,
The Walker Brothers,
Soulsonic Force,
Saccharine Trust,
Eric B and Rakim,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Derrick May,
Depeche Mode,
The Beau Brummels,
Sex Pistols,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.