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 Sudan and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 synthesizer 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 Janne Schatter to the techno 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 Fifty Foot Hose. All the underground hits.
All A Certain Ratio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every K-Klass record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Guru Guru,
Harry Pussy,
Quando Quango,
The United States of America,
The Skatalites,
Pere Ubu,
The Raincoats,
Fad Gadget,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
a-ha,
Lower 48,
Can,
Siglo XX,
Terrestrial Tones,
Loose Ends,
Tom Boy,
Severed Heads,
Youth Brigade,
Khruangbin,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Cowsills,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Names,
Max Romeo,
Pylon,
Gong,
The Neon Judgement,
The Knickerbockers,
Gang Green,
The Happenings,
Monolake,
Kas Product,
Stiv Bators,
Q and Not U,
Lou Reed,
the Soft Cell,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Minnie Riperton,
Whodini,
Masters at Work,
Boogie Down Productions,
Livin' Joy,
Josef K,
Warren Ellis,
Accadde A,
Ohio Players,
Suicide,
Spoonie Gee,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ralphi Rosario,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Erasure,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Count Five,
Second Layer,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ponytail,
The Durutti Column,
T. Rex,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.