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 Niger and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Cairo.
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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The United States of America to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 10cc. All the underground hits.
All U.S. Maple tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Von Mondo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neu! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Organ,
Mary Jane Girls,
PIL,
The Index,
Bobby Womack,
Wolf Eyes,
Boredoms,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lungfish,
The Divine Comedy,
X-102,
Panda Bear,
kango's stein massive,
Easy Going,
Urselle,
Oblivians,
A Certain Ratio,
Rufus Thomas,
Man Parrish,
Camouflage,
Yusef Lateef,
Flamin' Groovies,
Jerry's Kids,
MDC,
Marmalade,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lou Reed,
Sarah Menescal,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Scrapy,
The Litter,
Mark Hollis,
Khruangbin,
Depeche Mode,
Symarip,
Pere Ubu,
The Smoke,
Malaria!,
The Move,
Visage,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Gladiators,
Glambeats Corp.,
Pussy Galore,
Gabor Szabo,
Monks,
Iggy Pop,
Arthur Verocai,
Liliput,
Agent Orange,
Stiv Bators,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Roger Hodgson,
Roxy Music,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Pantaleimon,
Charles Mingus,
Susan Cadogan,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Josef K,
Jawbox,
Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens.
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.