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 France and from Portland.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 Shoche to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Fad Gadget. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deakin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vladislav Delay record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Duran Duran,
D'Angelo,
FM Einheit,
Anthony Braxton,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pere Ubu,
Bobby Womack,
The Smoke,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Walker Brothers,
Moebius,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Boz Scaggs,
Patti Smith,
Mad Mike,
Minnie Riperton,
Kenny Larkin,
Bad Manners,
Von Mondo,
Gong,
H. Thieme,
Letta Mbulu,
Y Pants,
Soft Machine,
Aaron Thompson,
Japan,
Susan Cadogan,
Saccharine Trust,
Tommy Roe,
Silicon Teens,
The Last Poets,
La Düsseldorf,
EPMD,
Buzzcocks,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Victims,
John Coltrane,
Inner City,
The Kinks,
Yazoo,
Fat Boys,
Freddie Wadling,
Scan 7,
Simply Red,
K-Klass,
Michelle Simonal,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ohio Players,
Jacques Brel,
Franke,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Magma,
Black Moon,
Sound Behaviour,
Parry Music,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Joe Finger,
Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops.
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.