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 Nauru and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Crispian St. Peters to the dance 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 Suicide. All the underground hits.
All The Young Rascals tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monolake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Warsaw,
Be Bop Deluxe,
X-101,
Joey Negro,
Marc Almond,
Supertramp,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
June Days,
H. Thieme,
Bill Near,
Alison Limerick,
Henry Cow,
Pole,
Ronnie Foster,
Deepchord,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Blancmange,
Surgeon,
The Music Machine,
Lou Christie,
Hoover,
Flipper,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Motions,
PIL,
Faust,
Sixth Finger,
The Dirtbombs,
Isaac Hayes,
Shoche,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Quando Quango,
The Move,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
China Crisis,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ice-T,
Bobby Byrd,
Aloha Tigers,
Au Pairs,
Rosa Yemen,
Saccharine Trust,
Gang of Four,
The Star Department,
Patti Smith,
CMW,
Kayak,
The Invisible,
Silicon Teens,
The Seeds,
Skaos,
Franke,
Sight & Sound,
Gang Green,
Technova,
the Swans,
Black Bananas,
Visage,
Gabor Szabo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
T. Rex,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock Band.
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.