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 Tunisia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 organ 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 Pagans to the techno 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 The Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Certain Ratio,
Saccharine Trust,
The Smoke,
The Five Americans,
Rosa Yemen,
Cecil Taylor,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ohio Players,
Dennis Brown,
One Last Wish,
World's Most,
Franke,
Absolute Body Control,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Selecter,
Eurythmics,
Al Stewart,
The Birthday Party,
DJ Style,
Little Man,
Sarah Menescal,
The Remains,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bluetip,
Bobby Sherman,
The Smiths,
Second Layer,
T. Rex,
Byron Stingily,
Dark Day,
Drive Like Jehu,
Minor Threat,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Soul Sonic Force,
PIL,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Blake Baxter,
The Zeros,
Tim Buckley,
Boredoms,
Michelle Simonal,
Pet Shop Boys,
the Fania All-Stars,
Guru Guru,
Joe Finger,
Marshall Jefferson,
Flipper,
The Walker Brothers,
Lou Christie,
Kerri Chandler,
Darondo,
The Index,
Index,
Crash Course in Science,
The Music Machine,
FM Einheit,
Television,
The Fortunes,
Interpol,
New Age Steppers,
Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses.
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.