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 Ireland and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the jazz 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 Graham Central Station. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Second Layer 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hasil Adkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ash Ra Tempel,
Cluster,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Soul II Soul,
Jerry's Kids,
Carl Craig,
Soft Cell,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Laurel Aitken,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Human League,
Fear,
The Saints,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Barracudas,
Bootsy Collins,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bang On A Can,
Yellowson,
T.S.O.L.,
Clear Light,
Yazoo,
The Golliwogs,
The Busters,
Minutemen,
The Slits,
Popol Vuh,
Archie Shepp,
In Retrospect,
The Black Dice,
The Fugs,
The Techniques,
Joe Smooth,
Soulsonic Force,
Freddie Wadling,
Isaac Hayes,
World's Most,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Theoretical Girls,
Inner City,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Red Krayola,
Rekid,
the Sonics,
Donny Hathaway,
Mandrill,
John Coltrane,
One Last Wish,
Al Stewart,
Quadrant,
Ohio Players,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Joy Division,
Livin' Joy,
PIL,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Simply Red,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Suburban Knight,
Supertramp,
The Count Five, The Count Five, The Count Five, The Count Five.
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.