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 Romania and from Cairo.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Seeds to the crunk 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 Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker + Sunn O))) tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Model 500 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sarah Menescal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Darondo,
Deakin,
Interpol,
Procol Harum,
Sparks,
Harry Pussy,
The Flesh Eaters,
Guru Guru,
U.S. Maple,
Newcleus,
Slick Rick,
Lou Reed,
Faust,
The Litter,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Second Layer,
Erykah Badu,
AZ,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Five Americans,
Aloha Tigers,
Fat Boys,
Wings,
Amazonics,
Kool Moe Dee,
Prince Buster,
Mantronix,
Scientists,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Roxette,
10cc,
Parry Music,
The New Christs,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Golliwogs,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Dirtbombs,
This Heat,
Fear,
the Human League,
Japan,
Jesper Dahlback,
Nick Fraelich,
Livin' Joy,
Scratch Acid,
Whodini,
T. Rex,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Camberwell Now,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lower 48,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
China Crisis,
Amon Düül II,
Pulsallama,
Kevin Saunderson,
Dead Boys,
Sexual Harrassment,
Loose Ends,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.