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 Montenegro and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Country Joe & The Fish to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Underground Resistance. All the underground hits.
All The New Christs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Saccharine Trust record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 guitar 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 theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Motions,
The Seeds,
Unwound,
Tubeway Army,
Liliput,
Mr. Review,
Whodini,
Piero Umiliani,
Schoolly D,
Dawn Penn,
Adolescents,
Sunsets and Hearts,
JFA,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lungfish,
Sister Nancy,
The Toasters,
James White and The Blacks,
Terrestrial Tones,
Basic Channel,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Faust,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Rotary Connection,
Organ,
Freddie Wadling,
Lakeside,
Ultra Naté,
Stetsasonic,
Lightning Bolt,
Warsaw,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Animal Collective,
Eric Dolphy,
Gang Green,
Todd Rundgren,
Rosa Yemen,
David McCallum,
The Durutti Column,
The Doors,
Jacques Brel,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Rakim,
The Monks,
T.S.O.L.,
kango's stein massive,
The Velvet Underground,
Simply Red,
Interpol,
H. Thieme,
X-102,
World's Most,
Flipper,
Index,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Music Machine,
New Order,
Grey Daturas,
Heaven 17,
Gerry Rafferty,
Gastr Del Sol,
Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth.
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.