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 Moldova and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 mellotron 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 Whodini to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Ohio Players. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sällskapet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Bauhaus,
The Durutti Column,
Todd Rundgren,
Sixth Finger,
D'Angelo,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Khruangbin,
Neil Young,
Monks,
The Fortunes,
The Trojans,
A Certain Ratio,
The Buckinghams,
The Monks,
Accadde A,
Harmonia,
Pierre Henry,
AZ,
the Normal,
Wings,
Swans,
The Mummies,
The Slits,
Sällskapet,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Harpers Bizarre,
Outsiders,
Pharoah Sanders,
the Swans,
The Cowsills,
Stetsasonic,
Trumans Water,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Black Bananas,
Television Personalities,
the Bar-Kays,
The Blackbyrds,
F. McDonald,
Radio Birdman,
Darondo,
Sandy B,
Lou Christie,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Evens,
Wally Richardson,
kango's stein massive,
DJ Style,
Eddi Front,
Avey Tare,
Robert Wyatt,
Crooked Eye,
the Soft Cell,
Black Sheep,
In Retrospect,
The Music Machine,
The Fuzztones,
Funky Four + One,
Goldenarms,
Hoover,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Barclay James Harvest,
EPMD, EPMD, EPMD, EPMD.
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.