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 Monaco and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 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 Second Layer 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 This Heat. All the underground hits.
All the Bar-Kays tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 mellotron and a guitar 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 theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Near,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
L. Decosne,
Pole,
Lalann,
June Days,
Blake Baxter,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Magazine,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Q and Not U,
Spoonie Gee,
Angry Samoans,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Masters at Work,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Pere Ubu,
Davy DMX,
Gang Starr,
Slick Rick,
Organ,
The Walker Brothers,
Au Pairs,
Duran Duran,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sister Nancy,
Accadde A,
Depeche Mode,
Clear Light,
The Searchers,
The Zeros,
Ultra Naté,
Boz Scaggs,
Drexciya,
Henry Cow,
Fela Kuti,
Whodini,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ken Boothe,
The Smiths,
Cymande,
Kerri Chandler,
Bobby Byrd,
The Smoke,
Rhythm & Sound,
T.S.O.L.,
The Red Krayola,
The Seeds,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kool Moe Dee,
Man Parrish,
Albert Ayler,
Rod Modell,
the Bar-Kays,
Essential Logic,
Andrew Hill,
Bobby Sherman,
The Cosmic Jokers,
DNA,
Section 25,
Buzzcocks,
Schoolly D, Schoolly D, Schoolly D, Schoolly D.
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.