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 Guatemala and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Mighty Diamonds. All the underground hits.
All Sight & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boredoms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Albert Ayler,
Bootsy Collins,
the Association,
Yaz,
Audionom,
Minor Threat,
Dual Sessions,
Maleditus Sound,
X-102,
Tim Buckley,
Malaria!,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Jacob Miller,
Brothers Johnson,
Pet Shop Boys,
New Order,
Sex Pistols,
the Germs,
Ultravox,
Alton Ellis,
New York Dolls,
Blake Baxter,
Bill Wells,
Ohio Players,
Ultra Naté,
The Monks,
EPMD,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Make Up,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Monks,
Leonard Cohen,
Jeru the Damaja,
Adolescents,
Darondo,
Bush Tetras,
the Fania All-Stars,
Fad Gadget,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Masters at Work,
Sonic Youth,
Hardrive,
The Velvet Underground,
Icehouse,
Dead Boys,
The Flesh Eaters,
Erasure,
The Move,
Delta 5,
The Litter,
Throbbing Gristle,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Dark Day,
D'Angelo,
Niagra,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Knickerbockers,
La Düsseldorf,
Tears for Fears,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.