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 South Africa and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Glenn Branca to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Pylon. All the underground hits.
All the Bar-Kays tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skaos record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Busters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maurizio,
Au Pairs,
Gabor Szabo,
The Selecter,
Eric B and Rakim,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Von Mondo,
L. Decosne,
Lou Christie,
Livin' Joy,
The Velvet Underground,
The Monochrome Set,
Anthony Braxton,
Fela Kuti,
Cymande,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Marcia Griffiths,
Royal Trux,
The Neon Judgement,
T.S.O.L.,
Country Joe & The Fish,
These Immortal Souls,
Ronnie Foster,
Lou Reed,
Heaven 17,
The Five Americans,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Malaria!,
Glambeats Corp.,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Little Man,
Nick Fraelich,
Sound Behaviour,
Throbbing Gristle,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ralphi Rosario,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Unrelated Segments,
Stockholm Monsters,
Archie Shepp,
Todd Rundgren,
DNA,
The Music Machine,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Johnny Clarke,
MC5,
Maleditus Sound,
Crash Course in Science,
Flamin' Groovies,
Accadde A,
The Pretty Things,
Jeff Lynne,
Scrapy,
Wally Richardson,
Man Parrish,
Arthur Verocai,
Unwound,
One Last Wish,
Monolake,
Gang Green,
Junior Murvin,
X-101,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.