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 Peru and from Milan.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Qualms to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Toni Rubio. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Enemy,
Malaria!,
Flamin' Groovies,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Swans,
The Cowsills,
Scrapy,
The Smoke,
Zapp,
Deadbeat,
Tropical Tobacco,
Deepchord,
Mark Hollis,
Joe Finger,
Pylon,
Hashim,
Vainqueur,
Laurel Aitken,
The Leaves,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Tommy Roe,
Ohio Players,
Harpers Bizarre,
the Soft Cell,
The Cramps,
Heaven 17,
Glambeats Corp.,
Roxy Music,
Brick,
Faust,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Fad Gadget,
Donald Byrd,
June Days,
Television Personalities,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Barracudas,
Lindisfarne,
Sugar Minott,
Masters at Work,
48th St. Collective,
New Age Steppers,
Bang On A Can,
Technova,
In Retrospect,
H. Thieme,
Pussy Galore,
Alison Limerick,
Fear,
Skarface,
Mars,
Guru Guru,
Soul Sonic Force,
Delta 5,
Ultravox,
Jesper Dahlback,
Minny Pops,
Judy Mowatt,
Livin' Joy,
One Last Wish,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Gladiators,
Pantaleimon,
The Move,
Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot.
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.