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 Chile and from Seoul.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Barrington Levy to the dance 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 DNA. All the underground hits.
All Intrusion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
the Bar-Kays,
Outsiders,
Pet Shop Boys,
Lucky Dragons,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sixth Finger,
X-102,
Camberwell Now,
Johnny Osbourne,
Index,
Ice-T,
Ken Boothe,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Freddie Wadling,
Mr. Review,
June of 44,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Aswad,
Gang Starr,
The Searchers,
Prince Buster,
China Crisis,
These Immortal Souls,
Duran Duran,
Slick Rick,
The Residents,
Deepchord,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Real Kids,
Adolescents,
Scion,
Q and Not U,
James White and The Blacks,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Sam Rivers,
Derrick May,
Kurtis Blow,
the Germs,
Altered Images,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The United States of America,
The Alarm Clocks,
Brothers Johnson,
The Wake,
John Coltrane,
The Saints,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lakeside,
Rufus Thomas,
Saccharine Trust,
Sister Nancy,
Schoolly D,
Tommy Roe,
Ultravox,
Reagan Youth,
Neil Young,
David Bowie,
Bobby Sherman,
Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys.
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.