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 Antigua 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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the guitar 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 Jeff Mills to the disco 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 The Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All Terry Callier tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Trumans Water record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
The Litter,
Derrick May,
Dave Gahan,
Alton Ellis,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Essential Logic,
Skriet,
Hoover,
The Shadows of Knight,
Smog,
Arab on Radar,
Fatback Band,
The Neon Judgement,
The Fugs,
Matthew Bourne,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Tommy Roe,
Harry Pussy,
Marine Girls,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
La Düsseldorf,
Andrew Hill,
Minnie Riperton,
Theoretical Girls,
The Monks,
Sandy B,
John Cale,
Anthony Braxton,
Lalo Schifrin,
Pole,
Darondo,
Ten City,
The Blackbyrds,
Thompson Twins,
Slick Rick,
Wasted Youth,
Joey Negro,
Little Man,
Sparks,
The Walker Brothers,
Joy Division,
The Beau Brummels,
Tomorrow,
Bluetip,
Jeff Lynne,
Ponytail,
Erasure,
Wally Richardson,
Kaleidoscope,
Neu!,
Neil Young,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Moby Grape,
Hasil Adkins,
New Order,
Wire,
Porter Ricks,
Blancmange,
a-ha,
Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop 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.