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 Kazakhstan and from Cairo.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Associates to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Quantec. All the underground hits.
All Radio Birdman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Green record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ten City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Henry Cow,
John Cale,
Drexciya,
Mr. Review,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Electric Prunes,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Cheater Slicks,
Cal Tjader,
Todd Terry,
Sonic Youth,
Camouflage,
PIL,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Unwound,
Royal Trux,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Malaria!,
Popol Vuh,
Amon Düül,
Lower 48,
Minutemen,
Black Sheep,
Symarip,
Chris Corsano,
Sugar Minott,
Eric Dolphy,
Peter and Kerry,
Shuggie Otis,
Tubeway Army,
The Grass Roots,
China Crisis,
the Human League,
Crooked Eye,
Nirvana,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Pierre Henry,
Altered Images,
Radiohead,
Von Mondo,
Essential Logic,
Neil Young,
Tommy Roe,
Aswad,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rhythm & Sound,
the Slits,
Ronan,
Lightning Bolt,
Shoche,
James White and The Blacks,
MDC,
Zapp,
Al Stewart,
Bill Near,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Juan Atkins,
Gang Starr,
Grey Daturas,
Black Flag,
The Gun Club,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.