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 Ethiopia and from Salvador.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Chris Corsano to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lizzy Mercier Descloux record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Morten Harket record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ten City,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Modern Lovers,
Eric B and Rakim,
Magazine,
Mantronix,
Hardrive,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Gories,
Tom Boy,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Soulsonic Force,
Ice-T,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Searchers,
Susan Cadogan,
the Swans,
Cecil Taylor,
Prince Buster,
The Barracudas,
Roxette,
World's Most,
Brick,
Fear,
Monolake,
The Gap Band,
The Monochrome Set,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sonic Youth,
John Coltrane,
Hot Snakes,
Tubeway Army,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Desert Stars,
Wally Richardson,
Lightning Bolt,
New Order,
Franke,
Drexciya,
Aloha Tigers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
the Germs,
Swell Maps,
Alice Coltrane,
Absolute Body Control,
Man Parrish,
Ultra Naté,
The Angels of Light,
cv313,
The Cramps,
Gang Starr,
Gabor Szabo,
CMW,
The Selecter,
Mary Jane Girls,
Morten Harket,
Ronan,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.