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 Japan and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Organ. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Darondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Residents,
Aural Exciters,
Cheater Slicks,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Toasters,
The Litter,
Dennis Brown,
Organ,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
L. Decosne,
Andrew Hill,
The Move,
Guru Guru,
Crooked Eye,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Ohio Players,
Jeff Mills,
It's A Beautiful Day,
AZ,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Fugs,
F. McDonald,
H. Thieme,
Laurel Aitken,
The Knickerbockers,
Soft Cell,
Idris Muhammad,
Spandau Ballet,
Arthur Verocai,
The Golliwogs,
The Red Krayola,
Carl Craig,
Yazoo,
Althea and Donna,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Liliput,
Black Moon,
Pantytec,
Kenny Larkin,
The Monks,
Henry Cow,
Big Daddy Kane,
Mary Jane Girls,
Man Parrish,
Faraquet,
Q and Not U,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Dual Sessions,
Accadde A,
Essential Logic,
Bob Dylan,
Pylon,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
K-Klass,
Average White Band,
Marcia Griffiths,
Slave,
Lightning Bolt,
Reuben Wilson,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.