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 United Kingdom and from Toronto.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Paris.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the güiro 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 The Alarm Clocks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Rod Modell. All the underground hits.
All Wally Richardson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Intrusion,
Marshall Jefferson,
Suicide,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Roxy Music,
OOIOO,
Harry Pussy,
JFA,
ABBA,
Nico,
Crooked Eye,
The Music Machine,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Alarm Clocks,
Howard Jones,
Quando Quango,
The Index,
Avey Tare,
The J.B.'s,
Qualms,
Subhumans,
The Raincoats,
Mo-Dettes,
Oblivians,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Godley & Creme,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Scan 7,
Warren Ellis,
Delta 5,
Sexual Harrassment,
Mr. Review,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Alton Ellis,
The Fortunes,
Quantec,
Susan Cadogan,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Dual Sessions,
Boredoms,
Grauzone,
Kerri Chandler,
John Foxx,
La Düsseldorf,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Magazine,
Barclay James Harvest,
K-Klass,
Television,
Bobby Womack,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Matthew Bourne,
Fluxion,
Sound Behaviour,
Ultravox,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Invisible,
The New Christs,
Donald Byrd,
UT,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.