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 the UAE and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 rhodes 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 Frankie Knuckles to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Inner City. All the underground hits.
All Khruangbin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
Model 500,
The Misunderstood,
Jimmy McGriff,
the Association,
The Music Machine,
The Doobie Brothers,
Fear,
Joe Smooth,
Silicon Teens,
Young Marble Giants,
the Soft Cell,
Lucky Dragons,
Aural Exciters,
The Victims,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bob Dylan,
T. Rex,
Warsaw,
Whodini,
Essential Logic,
Buzzcocks,
Kayak,
A Certain Ratio,
Brand Nubian,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Count Five,
Faust,
Guru Guru,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Vogues,
One Last Wish,
Liliput,
Archie Shepp,
Second Layer,
Delon & Dalcan,
Roger Hodgson,
The Durutti Column,
Oneida,
Tropical Tobacco,
Drexciya,
Crash Course in Science,
Hasil Adkins,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Litter,
Bronski Beat,
Leonard Cohen,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sun Ra,
Dennis Brown,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Gun Club,
The Leaves,
Aaron Thompson,
Chris & Cosey,
Robert Hood,
Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach.
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.