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 Burundi and from Taipei.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Alice Coltrane to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Grey Daturas. All the underground hits.
All Niagra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Durutti Column record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aural Exciters,
Max Romeo,
Dark Day,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Radio Birdman,
Lower 48,
the Sonics,
Eric B and Rakim,
Urselle,
Ludus,
Marshall Jefferson,
Nation of Ulysses,
DNA,
Cameo,
Harry Pussy,
DJ Sneak,
Absolute Body Control,
Ossler,
Fugazi,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Icehouse,
Country Teasers,
Roger Hodgson,
Qualms,
Metal Thangz,
The Fire Engines,
Circle Jerks,
The Kinks,
Heaven 17,
The Durutti Column,
John Holt,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
AZ,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Organ,
The American Breed,
The Wake,
Archie Shepp,
Black Pus,
Sällskapet,
The Techniques,
Freddie Wadling,
Camouflage,
Graham Central Station,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sugar Minott,
Flamin' Groovies,
Brothers Johnson,
Matthew Bourne,
a-ha,
Gichy Dan,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Amon Düül,
Roxy Music,
Inner City,
Spandau Ballet,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ituana,
Ronan,
the Swans,
The Searchers,
New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls.
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.