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 Finland and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Lagos.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Radiopuhelimet to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Juan Atkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tommy Roe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fluxion,
Qualms,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Derrick Morgan,
The Fire Engines,
Kurtis Blow,
Barry Ungar,
Barclay James Harvest,
Flipper,
Tom Boy,
Agent Orange,
Bobby Womack,
Average White Band,
Grey Daturas,
The Young Rascals,
Visage,
The Gories,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Darondo,
Lee Hazlewood,
Jeru the Damaja,
PIL,
Motorama,
Marine Girls,
Nick Fraelich,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Roxy Music,
Pere Ubu,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Cheater Slicks,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bluetip,
Ice-T,
Cecil Taylor,
David Bowie,
Malaria!,
Theoretical Girls,
Dave Gahan,
Thompson Twins,
Mars,
Gang Starr,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Grauzone,
The Detroit Cobras,
Procol Harum,
Byron Stingily,
Arcadia,
In Retrospect,
Frankie Knuckles,
These Immortal Souls,
Loose Ends,
K-Klass,
Jandek,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Cramps,
The Buckinghams,
The Tremeloes,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jacob Miller,
F. McDonald,
June of 44,
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.