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 Kazakhstan and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Pharoah Sanders to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Fall. All the underground hits.
All Ponytail tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aaron Thompson 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Lydon,
Pantaleimon,
Albert Ayler,
Glenn Branca,
Inner City,
James White and The Blacks,
Anakelly,
10cc,
Heaven 17,
Mr. Review,
Skaos,
Cecil Taylor,
Bobby Sherman,
Iggy Pop,
Warsaw,
Vladislav Delay,
Howard Jones,
Fatback Band,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Sisters of Mercy,
X-102,
Index,
Royal Trux,
The Music Machine,
New Age Steppers,
Sällskapet,
Slave,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Human League,
Jesper Dahlback,
X-101,
Gong,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Suicide,
The Red Krayola,
Scion,
The Saints,
Television,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Darondo,
The Durutti Column,
Icehouse,
Shoche,
The Fuzztones,
Jeru the Damaja,
FM Einheit,
Arthur Verocai,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Popol Vuh,
David Bowie,
Reuben Wilson,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
A Certain Ratio,
Liliput,
Subhumans,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Cybotron,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Rekid, Rekid, Rekid, Rekid.
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.