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 Rwanda and from Tehran.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Kango’s Stein Massive to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flamin' Groovies 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fifty Foot Hose record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stiv Bators,
The Flesh Eaters,
Skaos,
Fad Gadget,
Maleditus Sound,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Marshall Jefferson,
Mo-Dettes,
The Fugs,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Cure,
Wolf Eyes,
Massinfluence,
Nik Kershaw,
The Gladiators,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Howard Jones,
Buzzcocks,
Rekid,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Cal Tjader,
Sister Nancy,
Lyres,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Gong,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Johnny Clarke,
Pantytec,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lalann,
The Cramps,
Ossler,
Minor Threat,
Sonny Sharrock,
Visage,
Unwound,
D'Angelo,
Neu!,
Gang Starr,
Ronnie Foster,
Suburban Knight,
Slick Rick,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Max Romeo,
Gil Scott Heron,
Amon Düül II,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bush Tetras,
Glambeats Corp.,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Smiths,
Minny Pops,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Simply Red,
Darondo,
Second Layer,
Monolake,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bill Wells,
The Divine Comedy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Grandmaster Flash,
Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls.
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.