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 Tajikistan and from Copenhagen.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the oboe 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 John Holt to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All Tres Demented tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gabor Szabo,
Donald Byrd,
Minor Threat,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Model 500,
Suicide,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Alphaville,
Minnie Riperton,
The Seeds,
Bluetip,
The Gories,
Harmonia,
T.S.O.L.,
the Swans,
Fugazi,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
DNA,
JFA,
Shuggie Otis,
Malaria!,
The Smiths,
Althea and Donna,
Pagans,
CMW,
Hashim,
The Fortunes,
cv313,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tres Demented,
Sandy B,
David McCallum,
R.M.O.,
Deakin,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Robert Görl,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Shadows of Knight,
Funkadelic,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lou Christie,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Fugs,
Bob Dylan,
ABBA,
Jacob Miller,
The New Christs,
Rhythm & Sound,
John Holt,
The Skatalites,
Sonic Youth,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
D'Angelo,
Television,
Gregory Isaacs,
H. Thieme,
Nation of Ulysses,
Black Moon,
Wally Richardson,
Jandek,
Maleditus Sound,
Yaz,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.