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 Dominica and from Cairo.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lille.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 New Age Steppers to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All John Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Whodini record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pierre Henry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Adolescents,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Grey Daturas,
Urselle,
Crooked Eye,
Q and Not U,
The Pretty Things,
cv313,
Bizarre Inc.,
E-Dancer,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Flipper,
Reuben Wilson,
Suicide,
Blancmange,
Black Flag,
H. Thieme,
Sandy B,
Pantytec,
Drexciya,
Scientists,
Japan,
The Dead C,
Ralphi Rosario,
The New Christs,
Bill Wells,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Theoretical Girls,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
48th St. Collective,
The Alarm Clocks,
June Days,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
the Normal,
The Young Rascals,
Spoonie Gee,
Talk Talk,
Joe Smooth,
the Association,
The Golliwogs,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Fatback Band,
Howard Jones,
Au Pairs,
Duran Duran,
Kool Moe Dee,
Cecil Taylor,
Lalo Schifrin,
Deepchord,
Porter Ricks,
Schoolly D,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Skatalites,
Thee Headcoats,
Spandau Ballet,
Electric Prunes,
Magazine,
OOIOO,
Scan 7,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.