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 Laos and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Frankie Knuckles to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drexciya record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
Excepter,
Carl Craig,
New York Dolls,
Henry Cow,
Black Moon,
Royal Trux,
The Smiths,
Hardrive,
Marcia Griffiths,
Nirvana,
Black Bananas,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Y Pants,
Dorothy Ashby,
Angry Samoans,
The Last Poets,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Martian,
June of 44,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Mad Mike,
Eric B and Rakim,
Magazine,
Lucky Dragons,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Dave Clark Five,
Girls At Our Best!,
Masters at Work,
Tubeway Army,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Birthday Party,
Sonic Youth,
10cc,
Alison Limerick,
Sparks,
Scan 7,
R.M.O.,
EPMD,
Shoche,
the Bar-Kays,
Anthony Braxton,
Unwound,
AZ,
Laurel Aitken,
Das Ding,
Alice Coltrane,
the Human League,
Wally Richardson,
Chris & Cosey,
Soft Cell,
Erasure,
Tears for Fears,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Rekid,
Deakin,
Pantytec,
Sällskapet,
Procol Harum,
L. Decosne,
Swans,
Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins.
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.