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 Suriname and from Mumbai.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Public Enemy to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harmonia 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mary Jane Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eden Ahbez,
The Neon Judgement,
Maleditus Sound,
Lindisfarne,
Make Up,
Lou Christie,
Banda Bassotti,
Roxette,
Severed Heads,
R.M.O.,
Stiv Bators,
Gil Scott Heron,
New York Dolls,
Kenny Larkin,
June Days,
Hoover,
Pharoah Sanders,
Chrome,
Whodini,
The Red Krayola,
the Sonics,
Soulsonic Force,
UT,
Public Image Ltd.,
John Cale,
Cymande,
Siglo XX,
Man Eating Sloth,
Hashim,
Nico,
Cheater Slicks,
Gang Starr,
Lalann,
The Names,
Gang Green,
Crispian St. Peters,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Buzzcocks,
Nation of Ulysses,
Rod Modell,
Steve Hackett,
L. Decosne,
the Slits,
Joensuu 1685,
Mark Hollis,
The Leaves,
Sparks,
Procol Harum,
Roger Hodgson,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bad Manners,
Cybotron,
Ossler,
Public Enemy,
Quantec,
Eddi Front,
Bush Tetras,
Yazoo,
Panda Bear,
Brick,
Laurel Aitken,
The Trojans, The Trojans, The Trojans, The Trojans.
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.