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 Kuwait and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Robert Palmer 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 Ituana 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 Eli Mardock. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Excepter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anakelly record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
The Grass Roots,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Cymande,
the Normal,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Wasted Youth,
Fat Boys,
Urselle,
Throbbing Gristle,
Cybotron,
Pet Shop Boys,
Charles Mingus,
Althea and Donna,
Outsiders,
Scott Walker,
Rakim,
Section 25,
Pussy Galore,
Infiniti,
Tomorrow,
Clear Light,
X-101,
Gang of Four,
Severed Heads,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Basic Channel,
Brass Construction,
The Invisible,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Drive Like Jehu,
Ronnie Foster,
Peter and Kerry,
Chrome,
Donald Byrd,
The Star Department,
The Slackers,
The Detroit Cobras,
Alice Coltrane,
Joe Finger,
Blancmange,
Rosa Yemen,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Boredoms,
Panda Bear,
Ohio Players,
Max Romeo,
Simply Red,
Mary Jane Girls,
Scrapy,
Flash Fearless,
Don Cherry,
The Wake,
Aloha Tigers,
Gang Green,
Spoonie Gee,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Rites of Spring,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bobby Womack,
Babytalk,
CMW,
Symarip,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.