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 Czech Republic and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Michael McDonald 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 Todd Rundgren to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Joe Smooth. All the underground hits.
All Marshall Jefferson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Von Mondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Procol Harum,
Sam Rivers,
Excepter,
Royal Trux,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
the Germs,
Rotary Connection,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Real Kids,
Scratch Acid,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Girls At Our Best!,
Pere Ubu,
The Durutti Column,
The Moody Blues,
R.M.O.,
Public Image Ltd.,
Banda Bassotti,
The Misunderstood,
Nik Kershaw,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Eve St. Jones,
Bluetip,
Simply Red,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Roxette,
Roxy Music,
Flipper,
Quadrant,
Agitation Free,
Los Fastidios,
The Fugs,
Sonic Youth,
Siglo XX,
Das Ding,
The Golliwogs,
John Coltrane,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Crime,
Rapeman,
Wally Richardson,
The Move,
Boredoms,
Stockholm Monsters,
Basic Channel,
The Smiths,
Fad Gadget,
Don Cherry,
Zero Boys,
Lee Hazlewood,
Erasure,
Bobby Byrd,
Aloha Tigers,
Toni Rubio,
Black Sheep,
Charles Mingus,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Delta 5,
Archie Shepp,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.