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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 OOIOO to the grunge 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 Terrestrial Tones. All the underground hits.
All Ossler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nico 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 an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
Reagan Youth,
The Walker Brothers,
a-ha,
Khruangbin,
The Monochrome Set,
Audionom,
The Buckinghams,
Fat Boys,
Masters at Work,
Colin Newman,
Massinfluence,
the Slits,
Lucky Dragons,
Skriet,
Graham Central Station,
Y Pants,
Vainqueur,
Main Source,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Radiohead,
Spandau Ballet,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Marc Almond,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Unwound,
Popol Vuh,
The Zeros,
Sixth Finger,
The Velvet Underground,
Warren Ellis,
Tommy Roe,
The Standells,
Simply Red,
Bill Near,
Bob Dylan,
Gang Starr,
Arcadia,
Oblivians,
Yellowson,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Gap Band,
Con Funk Shun,
The Slits,
Barry Ungar,
The Remains,
Desert Stars,
Liliput,
John Cale,
Cecil Taylor,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Godley & Creme,
The Sonics,
The Real Kids,
The Beau Brummels,
Donald Byrd,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Invisible,
OOIOO,
Ludus,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets.
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.