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 Slovakia and from Lagos.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 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 Mandrill 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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mojo Men record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Association record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Suicide,
The Leaves,
Ice-T,
Fear,
Mary Jane Girls,
Severed Heads,
Warsaw,
Toni Rubio,
The Detroit Cobras,
Pagans,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Gap Band,
Yellowson,
The Moody Blues,
Underground Resistance,
Camouflage,
Yusef Lateef,
KRS-One,
Quadrant,
Reagan Youth,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Con Funk Shun,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Tim Buckley,
John Cale,
Sex Pistols,
Danielle Patucci,
Metal Thangz,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
X-Ray Spex,
R.M.O.,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Man Parrish,
Gang of Four,
Kurtis Blow,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Kinks,
Ossler,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Arab on Radar,
Agitation Free,
Sight & Sound,
Stockholm Monsters,
Brothers Johnson,
Ituana,
Ornette Coleman,
Frankie Knuckles,
Nirvana,
Wolf Eyes,
Bobby Womack,
Laurel Aitken,
The Gladiators,
F. McDonald,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Young Rascals,
Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode.
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.