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 Algeria and from Spokane.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Al Stewart. All the underground hits.
All L. Decosne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Art Ensemble Of Chicago record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Dead C,
Fatback Band,
The Human League,
The Toasters,
David Axelrod,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The American Breed,
Radiopuhelimet,
Crime,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Con Funk Shun,
Camberwell Now,
Icehouse,
David Bowie,
Negative Approach,
Intrusion,
Accadde A,
Ronnie Foster,
CMW,
Theoretical Girls,
Roy Ayers,
Section 25,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Black Flag,
The Gories,
Eve St. Jones,
Suicide,
This Heat,
Nation of Ulysses,
Cameo,
Television Personalities,
Crooked Eye,
Jesper Dahlback,
Shuggie Otis,
Erykah Badu,
Television,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Marmalade,
Nik Kershaw,
Sonny Sharrock,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
B.T. Express,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Walker Brothers,
K-Klass,
Model 500,
Aaron Thompson,
Fat Boys,
Joy Division,
Nas,
The Fire Engines,
Khruangbin,
Wolf Eyes,
Harpers Bizarre,
Kenny Larkin,
Malaria!,
Amon Düül II,
Underground Resistance,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.