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 Liechtenstein and from Tokyo.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 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 The Misunderstood to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Cluster,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Robert Hood,
the Sonics,
Goldenarms,
Yellowson,
Mo-Dettes,
Barrington Levy,
The Cramps,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sight & Sound,
Morten Harket,
Alice Coltrane,
The Smoke,
Malaria!,
Mandrill,
OOIOO,
Desert Stars,
New York Dolls,
Warren Ellis,
Eric Copeland,
Brothers Johnson,
Mission of Burma,
Black Pus,
The Pretty Things,
The Dead C,
Lakeside,
Mark Hollis,
Roxette,
The Golliwogs,
Basic Channel,
Kayak,
Gang of Four,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Aaron Thompson,
The Move,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
the Swans,
Lebanon Hanover,
Cybotron,
Bobby Womack,
Masters at Work,
Aloha Tigers,
The Techniques,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Whodini,
Blake Baxter,
kango's stein massive,
Lyres,
MDC,
Massinfluence,
Dark Day,
The Martian,
Matthew Bourne,
Minutemen,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
48th St. Collective,
Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players.
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.