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 Haiti and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Khruangbin to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All Q and Not U tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fifty Foot Hose record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Roy Ayers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Axelrod,
Charles Mingus,
Clear Light,
Inner City,
Gregory Isaacs,
Black Pus,
Kerrie Biddell,
Mars,
F. McDonald,
Archie Shepp,
Deepchord,
Trumans Water,
Juan Atkins,
Khruangbin,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Harry Pussy,
Black Bananas,
Terry Callier,
Glenn Branca,
Wolf Eyes,
Joyce Sims,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Gang Starr,
Intrusion,
Aaron Thompson,
The Raincoats,
Monks,
The Remains,
Henry Cow,
Lebanon Hanover,
Marine Girls,
Scratch Acid,
Vainqueur,
X-Ray Spex,
DNA,
Lightning Bolt,
Yazoo,
Ituana,
Flamin' Groovies,
Swans,
Buzzcocks,
Mission of Burma,
Curtis Mayfield,
Don Cherry,
The Durutti Column,
OOIOO,
The Blackbyrds,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bootsy Collins,
The Associates,
Todd Rundgren,
Hashim,
The Pop Group,
Funkadelic,
Crooked Eye,
Angry Samoans,
Panda Bear,
Steve Hackett,
Marcia Griffiths,
Idris Muhammad,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Minny Pops,
Crispy Ambulance,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry.
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.