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 Venezuela and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 U.S. Maple to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bauhaus. All the underground hits.
All The Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Busters,
Joey Negro,
Wolf Eyes,
The Blackbyrds,
The Selecter,
Pere Ubu,
Arab on Radar,
The New Christs,
Pagans,
Negative Approach,
Goldenarms,
Chris & Cosey,
Smog,
Infiniti,
Radiohead,
U.S. Maple,
F. McDonald,
The Dead C,
June of 44,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Move,
Cybotron,
the Soft Cell,
Panda Bear,
Stiv Bators,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Basic Channel,
Nils Olav,
The Slackers,
The Real Kids,
Royal Trux,
Make Up,
The Invisible,
Moby Grape,
Joe Finger,
Yaz,
X-102,
Davy DMX,
The Martian,
Technova,
Average White Band,
Soulsonic Force,
The Durutti Column,
Hardrive,
Das Ding,
Lightning Bolt,
Ten City,
Radiopuhelimet,
Kaleidoscope,
The Walker Brothers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Don Cherry,
Black Bananas,
Deakin,
Suicide,
China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis.
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.