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 Yemen and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 arpeggiator 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 The Flesh Eaters to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Terrestrial Tones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Real Kids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Youth Brigade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Wake,
R.M.O.,
Scientists,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Oblivians,
the Germs,
Hot Snakes,
Flash Fearless,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
These Immortal Souls,
Nick Fraelich,
Big Daddy Kane,
Subhumans,
Bad Manners,
Tubeway Army,
Ornette Coleman,
X-101,
Trumans Water,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Mojo Men,
D'Angelo,
Lou Reed,
Youth Brigade,
Kayak,
The Names,
Eli Mardock,
Aloha Tigers,
The Fuzztones,
The Searchers,
Ultravox,
Drexciya,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kenny Larkin,
June of 44,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Ice-T,
Wolf Eyes,
Eve St. Jones,
The Alarm Clocks,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Skarface,
The Human League,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gang of Four,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Don Cherry,
The Black Dice,
Rapeman,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Harmonia,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Skriet,
Pharoah Sanders,
Thee Headcoats,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Blackbyrds,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Minnie Riperton,
Nik Kershaw,
Jawbox,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.