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 Ethiopia and from Halifax.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Bologna.
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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo to the dance 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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Larry & the Blue Notes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every This Heat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liaisons Dangereuses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
D'Angelo,
The Cowsills,
June Days,
John Cale,
Brass Construction,
The Vogues,
Mantronix,
K-Klass,
Sound Behaviour,
Little Man,
Swans,
H. Thieme,
Make Up,
Wire,
Newcleus,
The Mummies,
Duran Duran,
Jeru the Damaja,
Alice Coltrane,
Marvin Gaye,
The Electric Prunes,
48th St. Collective,
Pantytec,
Peter & Gordon,
Deakin,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Excepter,
Symarip,
B.T. Express,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Misunderstood,
The Cure,
Bang On A Can,
Slave,
The Neon Judgement,
Dorothy Ashby,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bobby Womack,
Main Source,
Eli Mardock,
Faust,
Robert Görl,
Minutemen,
The Fugs,
Rakim,
Kayak,
Blake Baxter,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Erykah Badu,
Porter Ricks,
Stiv Bators,
Marine Girls,
These Immortal Souls,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Q65,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Public Enemy,
The Pretty Things,
Metal Thangz,
John Holt,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
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.