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 Solomon Islands and from London.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Paris.
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 Captain Beefheart 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 Hardrive to the rap 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 Das Ding. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Silicon Teens record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
ABBA,
Pagans,
Bronski Beat,
Siglo XX,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Moss Icon,
The Blues Magoos,
Franke,
Zapp,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Yazoo,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Remains,
R.M.O.,
OOIOO,
Visage,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Boredoms,
Gerry Rafferty,
Barrington Levy,
Unwound,
Prince Buster,
Skarface,
The Invisible,
Jeff Mills,
The Divine Comedy,
Throbbing Gristle,
Crispy Ambulance,
Wolf Eyes,
Negative Approach,
The J.B.'s,
The Evens,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Bluetip,
Jacob Miller,
the Association,
Toni Rubio,
Ultimate Spinach,
Anthony Braxton,
Rufus Thomas,
The Grass Roots,
Amazonics,
Ultravox,
New Age Steppers,
The Slackers,
Can,
Mr. Review,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fear,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Wire,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Tomorrow,
Alton Ellis,
The Shadows of Knight,
Make Up,
The Techniques,
Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red.
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.