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 Brunei and from Lyon.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Dead Boys to the rock 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Funkadelic,
the Fania All-Stars,
Depeche Mode,
Ronnie Foster,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Livin' Joy,
Monks,
R.M.O.,
Slick Rick,
Y Pants,
The Stooges,
Radiopuhelimet,
Rites of Spring,
Roger Hodgson,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Outsiders,
Michelle Simonal,
Absolute Body Control,
Erasure,
Arthur Verocai,
Gang Green,
Don Cherry,
The Tremeloes,
Black Bananas,
Ronan,
Maurizio,
Joy Division,
Erykah Badu,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Minny Pops,
Royal Trux,
Brand Nubian,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Fuzztones,
Lalo Schifrin,
Faust,
Tres Demented,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Freddie Wadling,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Drexciya,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Angels of Light,
Oneida,
The Moody Blues,
Whodini,
Nas,
World's Most,
Eve St. Jones,
Dennis Brown,
Funky Four + One,
The Seeds,
Essential Logic,
The Blues Magoos,
The Leaves,
Eric Copeland,
Das Ding,
The Standells, The Standells, The Standells, The Standells.
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.