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 Sierra Leone and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Michael McDonald 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 Ossler to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Glenn Branca. All the underground hits.
All Sandy B tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Adolescents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Arab on Radar,
Q and Not U,
The Wake,
Rhythm & Sound,
Marmalade,
Patti Smith,
Cymande,
The Star Department,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Lyres,
Matthew Bourne,
Icehouse,
Neu!,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sarah Menescal,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The United States of America,
The Moleskins,
Man Parrish,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
David McCallum,
Nas,
The Names,
Traffic Nightmare,
Scott Walker,
Rekid,
Skarface,
Organ,
Ten City,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Sixth Finger,
Archie Shepp,
Banda Bassotti,
Scratch Acid,
Amon Düül,
Slick Rick,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Happenings,
Technova,
Saccharine Trust,
Blake Baxter,
Guru Guru,
Agent Orange,
Severed Heads,
The Gladiators,
Tres Demented,
KRS-One,
Harmonia,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Cecil Taylor,
ABBA,
Joy Division,
Glambeats Corp.,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Crispy Ambulance,
Kayak,
John Coltrane,
Agitation Free,
Bobby Womack,
The Offenders,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.