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 Sri Lanka and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Glenn Branca to the electroclash 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 The Gories. All the underground hits.
All Albert Ayler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eyeless In Gaza,
Surgeon,
Procol Harum,
David Bowie,
Sunsets and Hearts,
U.S. Maple,
The Smiths,
Heaven 17,
Lyres,
Sight & Sound,
Nas,
The Saints,
Harry Pussy,
the Germs,
Byron Stingily,
The Vogues,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kevin Saunderson,
Section 25,
Peter & Gordon,
The New Christs,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Roxette,
B.T. Express,
Sun City Girls,
Nation of Ulysses,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Dead C,
Angry Samoans,
Henry Cow,
Derrick May,
Sarah Menescal,
The Sound,
The American Breed,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Slave,
Wasted Youth,
The Evens,
Robert Wyatt,
Talk Talk,
Black Pus,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Moby Grape,
Morten Harket,
DJ Style,
R.M.O.,
Mark Hollis,
The Misunderstood,
Sound Behaviour,
Absolute Body Control,
Joe Smooth,
Groovy Waters,
Gang Starr,
Amon Düül,
Moebius,
Donny Hathaway,
The Birthday Party,
Fugazi,
Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A.
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.