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 Libya and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Arthur Verocai to the rap 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 Bush Tetras. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Don Cherry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Darondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Livin' Joy,
Yusef Lateef,
D'Angelo,
Nation of Ulysses,
Jesper Dahlback,
Procol Harum,
Boz Scaggs,
The Cowsills,
Tom Boy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Second Layer,
Frankie Knuckles,
Cymande,
Newcleus,
Eddi Front,
Avey Tare,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Music Machine,
Yellowson,
Country Teasers,
Average White Band,
The Searchers,
Quantec,
Marcia Griffiths,
Shuggie Otis,
Sällskapet,
In Retrospect,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Barbara Tucker,
Derrick May,
Marc Almond,
Schoolly D,
Reagan Youth,
Suburban Knight,
Make Up,
Sound Behaviour,
Roger Hodgson,
Kerri Chandler,
Audionom,
Tres Demented,
Dorothy Ashby,
Joe Finger,
Sugar Minott,
Michelle Simonal,
Barry Ungar,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Buckinghams,
The Fortunes,
Chris & Cosey,
The Martian,
The Dead C,
Nirvana,
Surgeon,
Adolescents,
Jeru the Damaja,
DJ Style,
Roy Ayers,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Kenny Larkin,
The Dirtbombs,
Erasure,
Fluxion,
Panda Bear, Panda Bear, Panda Bear, Panda Bear.
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.