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 Seychelles and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Michael McDonald 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 Bush Tetras to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Vainqueur. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blackbyrds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chrome,
Oneida,
Terry Callier,
Newcleus,
Underground Resistance,
Hardrive,
Zapp,
The Names,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Can,
The Kinks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pagans,
Basic Channel,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Todd Terry,
Gang Starr,
The Knickerbockers,
Marmalade,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Dirtbombs,
Lou Reed,
Excepter,
Roxette,
Ornette Coleman,
Theoretical Girls,
Charles Mingus,
Sound Behaviour,
Ken Boothe,
Don Cherry,
Tropical Tobacco,
Arcadia,
Tres Demented,
Barclay James Harvest,
Outsiders,
Kas Product,
Pierre Henry,
The Red Krayola,
UT,
Organ,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Jerry's Kids,
Gang Green,
Hasil Adkins,
Gabor Szabo,
Eric B and Rakim,
Hashim,
Connie Case,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Patti Smith,
Maleditus Sound,
The Offenders,
The Electric Prunes,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Wally Richardson,
Drexciya,
Clear Light,
Nirvana,
Sugar Minott,
Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson.
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.