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 Gambia and from Glasgow.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 X-Ray Spex to the grunge 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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All The Golliwogs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nico record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
Masters at Work,
DNA,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gil Scott Heron,
Quando Quango,
Avey Tare,
Suicide,
Frankie Knuckles,
Crispian St. Peters,
Man Parrish,
Sällskapet,
Harmonia,
Arthur Verocai,
David Bowie,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Steve Hackett,
Pharoah Sanders,
the Association,
10cc,
cv313,
Bill Near,
Adolescents,
The Flesh Eaters,
DJ Sneak,
Jesper Dahlback,
Young Marble Giants,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
the Bar-Kays,
Angry Samoans,
Yusef Lateef,
The New Christs,
Can,
The American Breed,
The Grass Roots,
Kaleidoscope,
Technova,
MC5,
The Tremeloes,
The Velvet Underground,
Newcleus,
Visage,
Bob Dylan,
The Busters,
Aaron Thompson,
Dead Boys,
Curtis Mayfield,
Flash Fearless,
Susan Cadogan,
Mantronix,
the Human League,
Eden Ahbez,
Robert Hood,
Sonny Sharrock,
Cymande,
Black Pus,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Tim Buckley,
Ponytail,
Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum.
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.