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 Oman and from Mexico City.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Lou Reed 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 Nick Fraelich to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Pet Shop Boys. All the underground hits.
All Au Pairs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boz Scaggs 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
The Gories,
The New Christs,
Public Enemy,
The Black Dice,
The Invisible,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bizarre Inc.,
Bang On A Can,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Selecter,
Moss Icon,
Colin Newman,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Knickerbockers,
Harpers Bizarre,
Cluster,
The Leaves,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bush Tetras,
Ossler,
Lou Reed,
The Busters,
Amon Düül II,
Aural Exciters,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ice-T,
Lucky Dragons,
Television,
Erykah Badu,
This Heat,
Amon Düül,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Black Moon,
Sandy B,
The Gun Club,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Names,
The Cure,
Leonard Cohen,
Kayak,
Thompson Twins,
Scan 7,
Y Pants,
Darondo,
AZ,
Blake Baxter,
Peter & Gordon,
Lindisfarne,
John Foxx,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Silicon Teens,
the Fania All-Stars,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Warren Ellis,
Franke,
The Stooges,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Cheater Slicks,
The Monochrome Set,
Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators.
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.