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 Cuba and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 theremin 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 The Music Machine to the funk 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 Fifty Foot Hose. All the underground hits.
All Lucky Dragons tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
Reagan Youth,
Scratch Acid,
Vladislav Delay,
Young Marble Giants,
Lalo Schifrin,
Country Teasers,
Soulsonic Force,
Hot Snakes,
The Standells,
Iggy Pop,
The Toasters,
Tears for Fears,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Brand Nubian,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Todd Terry,
Brass Construction,
Harry Pussy,
Niagra,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sarah Menescal,
Dead Boys,
Lyres,
Hasil Adkins,
Ultra Naté,
Sixth Finger,
the Fania All-Stars,
Judy Mowatt,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Blues Magoos,
Pussy Galore,
The Misunderstood,
Marc Almond,
JFA,
Basic Channel,
Arcadia,
Blossom Toes,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Busters,
The Modern Lovers,
The Fortunes,
the Swans,
Bobby Byrd,
DJ Sneak,
a-ha,
Howard Jones,
Freddie Wadling,
Panda Bear,
Altered Images,
Kurtis Blow,
Scientists,
Don Cherry,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Rufus Thomas,
Althea and Donna,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Marvin Gaye,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.