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 East Timor and from Seoul.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Moebius to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tubeway Army 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Bananas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donald Byrd,
Quando Quango,
The Seeds,
Chrome,
Sarah Menescal,
Eric Dolphy,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Make Up,
Terrestrial Tones,
Fatback Band,
The Red Krayola,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Tremeloes,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Happenings,
Faraquet,
Thompson Twins,
Arcadia,
Pussy Galore,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Zeros,
The Standells,
T. Rex,
The New Christs,
Patti Smith,
New Order,
Carl Craig,
Von Mondo,
Tim Buckley,
The Index,
Moebius,
John Holt,
Letta Mbulu,
Leonard Cohen,
Franke,
Mo-Dettes,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Durutti Column,
Can,
Maurizio,
KRS-One,
Con Funk Shun,
Ultravox,
Newcleus,
Slave,
Jeru the Damaja,
Deakin,
Porter Ricks,
Pere Ubu,
Alphaville,
Malaria!,
Accadde A,
the Bar-Kays,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Boz Scaggs,
PIL,
Circle Jerks,
Tropical Tobacco,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Kaleidoscope,
MDC,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.