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 Brazil and from Edmonton.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 chamberlin 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 Matthew Bourne to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All The Young Rascals tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Urselle,
Piero Umiliani,
Andrew Hill,
Davy DMX,
The Beau Brummels,
Brothers Johnson,
Donald Byrd,
Tomorrow,
La Düsseldorf,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Jawbox,
Alice Coltrane,
Hot Snakes,
Swell Maps,
Tubeway Army,
The Gories,
Danielle Patucci,
MDC,
Suburban Knight,
the Normal,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Nirvana,
Cheater Slicks,
Pantaleimon,
Morten Harket,
World's Most,
U.S. Maple,
48th St. Collective,
Tropical Tobacco,
New Age Steppers,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Deakin,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Dead Boys,
Jacob Miller,
Neu!,
The Remains,
The Cramps,
Bill Wells,
David Bowie,
Aaron Thompson,
Mantronix,
Absolute Body Control,
Joy Division,
Model 500,
Pere Ubu,
Sound Behaviour,
Leonard Cohen,
Fatback Band,
Donny Hathaway,
Gang Green,
Bang On A Can,
Isaac Hayes,
Roy Ayers,
Y Pants,
F. McDonald,
Pole,
Crooked Eye,
Average White Band,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Circle Jerks,
Harry Pussy,
X-102,
Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound.
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.