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 Palau and from Beijing.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Hong Kong.
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 oboe 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the jazz 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 Yaz. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacques Brel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen 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?
Blancmange,
Alison Limerick,
Letta Mbulu,
Talk Talk,
Bill Wells,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
CMW,
the Swans,
Man Parrish,
Underground Resistance,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bizarre Inc.,
Ronan,
8 Eyed Spy,
Khruangbin,
Motorama,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Spandau Ballet,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Electric Prunes,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Technova,
MDC,
10cc,
The Zeros,
Mantronix,
The Dave Clark Five,
X-101,
Black Bananas,
Subhumans,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Golliwogs,
Index,
Lightning Bolt,
Man Eating Sloth,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Busters,
Anakelly,
Bronski Beat,
Make Up,
Wings,
Audionom,
The Count Five,
Marine Girls,
U.S. Maple,
Joey Negro,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Shoche,
Visage,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Idris Muhammad,
the Bar-Kays,
Bill Near,
Connie Case,
Qualms,
Hasil Adkins,
Rosa Yemen,
Chris Corsano,
Metal Thangz,
LL Cool J,
Black Pus,
Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio.
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.