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 Malawi and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 harpsichord 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 Patti Smith to the disco 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 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 Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Japan,
The Evens,
The Monochrome Set,
Moss Icon,
X-101,
Girls At Our Best!,
the Germs,
The Velvet Underground,
Donny Hathaway,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Red Krayola,
Amazonics,
The Mojo Men,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Rekid,
Minnie Riperton,
June of 44,
The Dead C,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Little Man,
Public Image Ltd.,
Jeru the Damaja,
Alice Coltrane,
Idris Muhammad,
Icehouse,
The Seeds,
Joensuu 1685,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
JFA,
Howard Jones,
Unwound,
Babytalk,
The Fugs,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Easy Going,
The Modern Lovers,
Television Personalities,
Masters at Work,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Metal Thangz,
Crime,
Cameo,
Bad Manners,
Shuggie Otis,
Los Fastidios,
The Flesh Eaters,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Kayak,
Mission of Burma,
Tommy Roe,
The Electric Prunes,
The Sonics,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
X-102,
Blossom Toes,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Blackbyrds,
Patti Smith,
Piero Umiliani,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring.
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.