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 Benin and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Cabaret Voltaire to the jazz 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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All Vaughan Mason & Crew tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every MC5 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a La Düsseldorf record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Rufus Thomas,
Funkadelic,
Deadbeat,
Mr. Review,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sonny Sharrock,
Monolake,
Donny Hathaway,
Ludus,
Barry Ungar,
Sam Rivers,
David Bowie,
Quando Quango,
Connie Case,
Alphaville,
Infiniti,
the Association,
Ken Boothe,
Agitation Free,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Fuzztones,
Sun Ra,
The Remains,
Sarah Menescal,
The Wake,
Lou Reed,
Maleditus Sound,
Tres Demented,
Khruangbin,
The J.B.'s,
The Skatalites,
The Raincoats,
Blancmange,
The Sonics,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Robert Hood,
Hashim,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Newcleus,
Gang of Four,
Harpers Bizarre,
Mission of Burma,
Freddie Wadling,
Bad Manners,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Last Poets,
The Moody Blues,
Jerry's Kids,
The Fire Engines,
Siglo XX,
Arthur Verocai,
Visage,
Wolf Eyes,
Boz Scaggs,
The Vogues,
B.T. Express,
Skriet,
Yazoo,
Dark Day,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Nas,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Rosa Yemen,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.