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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Half Japanese to the electroclash 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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All The Dirtbombs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
Severed Heads,
Maurizio,
Leonard Cohen,
Boz Scaggs,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Kerri Chandler,
The Stooges,
Terrestrial Tones,
Skarface,
Deadbeat,
Terry Callier,
Lungfish,
Oblivians,
Oneida,
Siglo XX,
June of 44,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
MC5,
Don Cherry,
Model 500,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ronnie Foster,
Morten Harket,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Doors,
Delon & Dalcan,
Neu!,
The Motions,
The Golliwogs,
China Crisis,
Laurel Aitken,
Radiohead,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Dave Clark Five,
Frankie Knuckles,
Fela Kuti,
Arthur Verocai,
Slave,
The Blackbyrds,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Q65,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Victims,
Mr. Review,
Bauhaus,
Monolake,
Lower 48,
The Kinks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
David Bowie,
Hot Snakes,
Black Bananas,
Sparks,
Prince Buster,
Magma,
Depeche Mode,
Andrew Hill,
L. Decosne,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.