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 Malawi and from Hong Kong.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 808 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 Ultimate Spinach to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Althea and Donna. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pulsallama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David McCallum record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Soft Machine,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Popol Vuh,
The Velvet Underground,
Malaria!,
Q and Not U,
Sarah Menescal,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Cramps,
Cymande,
The Residents,
Maurizio,
Curtis Mayfield,
Black Sheep,
Talk Talk,
Scientists,
Index,
Alphaville,
Gil Scott Heron,
Hot Snakes,
The Fortunes,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
China Crisis,
Tropical Tobacco,
David McCallum,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Bob Dylan,
Average White Band,
Eric B and Rakim,
June of 44,
Can,
Los Fastidios,
Ken Boothe,
Lalann,
Funkadelic,
Juan Atkins,
Section 25,
Camouflage,
Lalo Schifrin,
X-102,
Underground Resistance,
Mark Hollis,
Bootsy Collins,
Nas,
Nirvana,
The Leaves,
Robert Hood,
Mad Mike,
Unwound,
Glenn Branca,
Agitation Free,
Warren Ellis,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Stooges,
The United States of America,
The Slackers,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pere Ubu,
Quadrant,
Althea and Donna,
the Normal,
Das Ding,
Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins.
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.