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 Mongolia and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Lyres 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All The Litter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aloha Tigers 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scrapy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
Severed Heads,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Dead Boys,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Dennis Brown,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Vladislav Delay,
Mr. Review,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Techniques,
Mo-Dettes,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Radio Birdman,
Godley & Creme,
Public Image Ltd.,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Cymande,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Litter,
Robert Wyatt,
The Selecter,
Bronski Beat,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The New Christs,
June of 44,
Drive Like Jehu,
Motorama,
the Human League,
Black Moon,
Desert Stars,
D'Angelo,
Jeru the Damaja,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
June Days,
Archie Shepp,
Y Pants,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Slits,
K-Klass,
Khruangbin,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Laurel Aitken,
Gong,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Blake Baxter,
Lindisfarne,
Lightning Bolt,
These Immortal Souls,
Von Mondo,
The Saints,
DNA,
Quantec,
Minny Pops,
Schoolly D,
Nico,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.