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 Bolivia and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Thee Headcoats to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Donald Byrd. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Young Marble Giants 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scratch Acid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Freddie Wadling,
Bill Wells,
Mo-Dettes,
a-ha,
Yaz,
The Red Krayola,
KRS-One,
Symarip,
Darondo,
Hasil Adkins,
Gastr Del Sol,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Kayak,
Avey Tare,
F. McDonald,
Agitation Free,
These Immortal Souls,
Ponytail,
Aural Exciters,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Piero Umiliani,
Mark Hollis,
Grauzone,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Arcadia,
Soft Cell,
Lalann,
The Angels of Light,
David Axelrod,
Rotary Connection,
The Evens,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Alison Limerick,
Accadde A,
The Dirtbombs,
Suicide,
Grey Daturas,
The Offenders,
The Monochrome Set,
Shoche,
Swell Maps,
Mandrill,
the Soft Cell,
Idris Muhammad,
Gang Gang Dance,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Boogie Down Productions,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lightning Bolt,
H. Thieme,
Mad Mike,
Monolake,
Outsiders,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Mission of Burma,
Radiohead,
Deakin,
Lou Christie,
John Cale,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Remains, The Remains, The Remains, The Remains.
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.