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 Dominican Republic and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Suicide to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All Lucky Dragons tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cluster 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cluster,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Stiv Bators,
Thompson Twins,
cv313,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dark Day,
Nick Fraelich,
Don Cherry,
Rhythm & Sound,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Wake,
Youth Brigade,
The Martian,
Roxy Music,
Skriet,
The Count Five,
The Fuzztones,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Lungfish,
Boz Scaggs,
Wolf Eyes,
Hot Snakes,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Reuben Wilson,
Country Teasers,
Ten City,
Scott Walker,
Mars,
Negative Approach,
Fad Gadget,
The Litter,
Agent Orange,
The Invisible,
Khruangbin,
Shuggie Otis,
OOIOO,
Black Bananas,
the Human League,
Newcleus,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Theoretical Girls,
Das Ding,
Lightning Bolt,
Make Up,
Rites of Spring,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Icehouse,
Scan 7,
The Kinks,
Al Stewart,
Nils Olav,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
James Chance & The Contortions,
T.S.O.L.,
The Gap Band,
Sam Rivers,
Max Romeo,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.