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 Papua New Guinea and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 mellotron 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 Chris Corsano to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Normal. All the underground hits.
All Country Joe & The Fish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Near record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonic Youth,
Albert Ayler,
Silicon Teens,
Pylon,
Camberwell Now,
Black Pus,
Michelle Simonal,
The Smiths,
The Fugs,
Organ,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Kerri Chandler,
Fela Kuti,
Magazine,
Television,
Ten City,
Lucky Dragons,
Ultra Naté,
Kas Product,
The Busters,
Skarface,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Liliput,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Black Dice,
Donny Hathaway,
Vladislav Delay,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Toasters,
Lakeside,
Simply Red,
the Fania All-Stars,
New Order,
Wally Richardson,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Dave Clark Five,
Isaac Hayes,
Fugazi,
The Cowsills,
Marc Almond,
The Mojo Men,
The Human League,
Marcia Griffiths,
H. Thieme,
Soft Machine,
Tropical Tobacco,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lee Hazlewood,
Archie Shepp,
Bobby Womack,
New Age Steppers,
Thee Headcoats,
Mr. Review,
The Misunderstood,
The Evens,
The American Breed,
These Immortal Souls,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pierre Henry,
the Normal,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.