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 South Africa and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Portland.
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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Depeche Mode to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Jeff Mills. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a CMW record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
Massinfluence,
Outsiders,
Aloha Tigers,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bobby Sherman,
Spandau Ballet,
Public Image Ltd.,
Chris & Cosey,
Marine Girls,
Flipper,
Nick Fraelich,
Crooked Eye,
Matthew Bourne,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Five Americans,
The Pretty Things,
Pierre Henry,
Gang Gang Dance,
Agitation Free,
Fear,
The Cramps,
Iggy Pop,
Flash Fearless,
L. Decosne,
the Association,
Glenn Branca,
Young Marble Giants,
The Divine Comedy,
Tres Demented,
DJ Sneak,
Dead Boys,
The Dirtbombs,
Jandek,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Vladislav Delay,
R.M.O.,
Newcleus,
Grey Daturas,
The Invisible,
Andrew Hill,
Crispy Ambulance,
Guru Guru,
Infiniti,
Swell Maps,
Sparks,
Joe Finger,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Fuzztones,
David McCallum,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Groovy Waters,
Niagra,
Neil Young,
China Crisis,
D'Angelo,
Patti Smith,
Man Eating Sloth,
Rapeman,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.