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 Korea South and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 New York and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 PIL to the rock 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 Das Ding. All the underground hits.
All The Cramps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kas Product 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ronnie Foster,
The Smiths,
Scan 7,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Newcleus,
Motorama,
FM Einheit,
Bill Wells,
Banda Bassotti,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Minutemen,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Young Marble Giants,
Neu!,
Avey Tare,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Camberwell Now,
Masters at Work,
Basic Channel,
Dawn Penn,
In Retrospect,
Urselle,
Organ,
The Misunderstood,
The Music Machine,
UT,
Niagra,
Khruangbin,
Bluetip,
Byron Stingily,
Flipper,
ABBA,
Max Romeo,
Toni Rubio,
Gil Scott Heron,
T. Rex,
Stockholm Monsters,
Kenny Larkin,
Dark Day,
Godley & Creme,
Eddi Front,
Silicon Teens,
Mark Hollis,
Scratch Acid,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Morten Harket,
Joey Negro,
MDC,
Bill Near,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Martian,
Arthur Verocai,
Dennis Brown,
The Litter,
DNA,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Gories,
The Tremeloes,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Country Teasers,
The Fall, The Fall, The Fall, The Fall.
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.