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 Moldova and from Mexico City.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Black Sheep to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Supertramp. All the underground hits.
All The Fall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Talk Talk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Model 500,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Slick Rick,
Arcadia,
Jimmy McGriff,
Franke,
Monolake,
Whodini,
Tom Boy,
R.M.O.,
The Litter,
Qualms,
Das Ding,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Jawbox,
Theoretical Girls,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Kinks,
New Age Steppers,
Maleditus Sound,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Parry Music,
Tears for Fears,
Janne Schatter,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Quantec,
The Evens,
Scrapy,
Urselle,
Black Moon,
Hot Snakes,
Erykah Badu,
The Remains,
Slave,
Johnny Clarke,
Brass Construction,
Andrew Hill,
The Stooges,
The Mojo Men,
The Count Five,
Sarah Menescal,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ornette Coleman,
Second Layer,
Leonard Cohen,
Juan Atkins,
The Dirtbombs,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
John Holt,
Fatback Band,
The Move,
the Normal,
Gang Gang Dance,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Ten City,
The Invisible,
Judy Mowatt,
Bizarre Inc.,
Infiniti,
The Star Department,
Pantaleimon,
Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt.
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.