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 Equatorial Guinea and from Mumbai.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Underground Resistance to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All Maleditus Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Patti Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sunsets and Hearts,
Ten City,
The Wake,
Scientists,
Sixth Finger,
Faust,
Bang On A Can,
The United States of America,
Sarah Menescal,
The Five Americans,
F. McDonald,
Kurtis Blow,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Trojans,
The Selecter,
Sister Nancy,
E-Dancer,
Kerrie Biddell,
Chris & Cosey,
Swell Maps,
Zero Boys,
Joe Smooth,
Alton Ellis,
Jacob Miller,
Newcleus,
Gerry Rafferty,
Q and Not U,
Tomorrow,
Delon & Dalcan,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Blackbyrds,
ABC,
Con Funk Shun,
The Gun Club,
Lower 48,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Invisible,
Mark Hollis,
a-ha,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Massinfluence,
Althea and Donna,
Crispian St. Peters,
Steve Hackett,
UT,
Ronnie Foster,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bob Dylan,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Terry Callier,
Dual Sessions,
Nik Kershaw,
Sound Behaviour,
China Crisis,
Deadbeat,
The Raincoats,
Livin' Joy,
Talk Talk,
David Bowie,
Mr. Review,
The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes.
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.