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 Solomon Islands and from Philadelphia.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Glasgow.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Todd Terry to the grunge 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 MDC. All the underground hits.
All The Durutti Column tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a This Heat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aswad,
Minny Pops,
Rapeman,
Sam Rivers,
Bobby Byrd,
Black Moon,
Dennis Brown,
Stockholm Monsters,
Derrick May,
Chris & Cosey,
The Durutti Column,
Zero Boys,
Jerry's Kids,
Sparks,
Guru Guru,
Barry Ungar,
Chris Corsano,
The Associates,
Absolute Body Control,
Quando Quango,
Dorothy Ashby,
Joyce Sims,
The Cramps,
Lalo Schifrin,
Stiv Bators,
Monks,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Cameo,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Stereo Dub,
Agitation Free,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bootsy Collins,
Mandrill,
Mad Mike,
Hashim,
Pharoah Sanders,
Cal Tjader,
ABBA,
Y Pants,
Warren Ellis,
The Angels of Light,
Connie Case,
Tommy Roe,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Gastr Del Sol,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ronnie Foster,
Excepter,
Electric Prunes,
Masters at Work,
Jacques Brel,
Outsiders,
Flash Fearless,
Tom Boy,
Minutemen,
Interpol,
Sun City Girls,
Jeff Lynne,
Shuggie Otis,
F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald.
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.