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 Andorra and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 guitar 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 Deadbeat to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Young Rascals. All the underground hits.
All The Pretty Things tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
Grey Daturas,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Techniques,
D'Angelo,
the Swans,
Hot Snakes,
Angry Samoans,
Ponytail,
cv313,
The United States of America,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Durutti Column,
The Blackbyrds,
Organ,
F. McDonald,
The Fuzztones,
Bluetip,
Zero Boys,
Sound Behaviour,
Jeff Mills,
Thee Headcoats,
Judy Mowatt,
Sexual Harrassment,
Soft Machine,
Flipper,
Gang Green,
Suburban Knight,
The Last Poets,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Arcadia,
Sparks,
Howard Jones,
Dark Day,
Archie Shepp,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Alphaville,
Rod Modell,
Chrome,
Terrestrial Tones,
Accadde A,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Wire,
Pole,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Neon Judgement,
Traffic Nightmare,
CMW,
This Heat,
Brass Construction,
Josef K,
Brick,
Bauhaus,
Tres Demented,
Slave,
The Grass Roots,
Drive Like Jehu,
In Retrospect,
Kayak,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.