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 Guinea-Bissau and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 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 Altered Images to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Slick Rick. All the underground hits.
All John Lydon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythim Is Rhythim 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 spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Whodini,
Yazoo,
The Real Kids,
The Smiths,
Moss Icon,
Pere Ubu,
Jerry's Kids,
Eden Ahbez,
The Toasters,
Ludus,
Avey Tare,
The Fugs,
Eddi Front,
U.S. Maple,
Connie Case,
Bush Tetras,
The Smoke,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Can,
June of 44,
Leonard Cohen,
Urselle,
Charles Mingus,
Wally Richardson,
The Divine Comedy,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Moby Grape,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Echospace,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Warren Ellis,
The Zeros,
Cecil Taylor,
Minutemen,
Juan Atkins,
Subhumans,
The Star Department,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Drive Like Jehu,
T.S.O.L.,
Ten City,
Drexciya,
These Immortal Souls,
Dorothy Ashby,
Marcia Griffiths,
Siglo XX,
Brothers Johnson,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Pretty Things,
Scientists,
June Days,
Matthew Bourne,
Robert Hood,
Gerry Rafferty,
Roger Hodgson,
The J.B.'s,
Idris Muhammad,
China Crisis,
Funky Four + One,
New York Dolls,
Stiv Bators,
Panda Bear, Panda Bear, Panda Bear, Panda Bear.
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.