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 Moldova and from Johannesburg.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Mighty Diamonds to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Notorious Big And Bone Thugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ludus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
Marmalade,
Rotary Connection,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Sound,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Soulsonic Force,
Minny Pops,
The Names,
Zapp,
Lower 48,
Ronan,
Toni Rubio,
Barbara Tucker,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Royal Trux,
Radio Birdman,
Arthur Verocai,
The Motions,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Ohio Players,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
48th St. Collective,
Kurtis Blow,
John Lydon,
Tommy Roe,
Eli Mardock,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Spandau Ballet,
The Fuzztones,
Lou Christie,
Howard Jones,
Mr. Review,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Marc Almond,
The Doors,
Scrapy,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bang On A Can,
Altered Images,
Ten City,
Tom Boy,
Robert Görl,
The Fire Engines,
Bill Near,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Delon & Dalcan,
Dual Sessions,
Deadbeat,
Grauzone,
Kool Moe Dee,
Jacques Brel,
Stiv Bators,
Lalo Schifrin,
Duran Duran,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Minutemen,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Harmonia,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Wake,
the Bar-Kays,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.