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 Zambia and from Stockholm.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 harpsichord 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 Freddie Wadling to the rap 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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Misunderstood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drexciya record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fluxion,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Moleskins,
Groovy Waters,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lyres,
The Smoke,
Animal Collective,
The Angels of Light,
Japan,
The American Breed,
Marc Almond,
Bauhaus,
Quando Quango,
Black Bananas,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ultra Naté,
Idris Muhammad,
Hoover,
Tres Demented,
This Heat,
China Crisis,
Nils Olav,
Yellowson,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Toasters,
Unwound,
Tears for Fears,
Gong,
Wolf Eyes,
Skriet,
Matthew Bourne,
Das Ding,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Sixth Finger,
Niagra,
Dead Boys,
Section 25,
Main Source,
Bobby Byrd,
Depeche Mode,
Quadrant,
The Shadows of Knight,
Scientists,
Deepchord,
Todd Terry,
David McCallum,
Ponytail,
Organ,
The Birthday Party,
Sparks,
La Düsseldorf,
Cheater Slicks,
Danielle Patucci,
Barry Ungar,
Donny Hathaway,
The Selecter,
Neil Young,
Robert Hood,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Seeds,
Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster.
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.