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 Mozambique and from Sao Paulo.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the güiro 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 Freddie Wadling to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Wake. All the underground hits.
All Grey Daturas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alison Limerick 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funky Four + One,
Amazonics,
Bill Near,
Anakelly,
Fat Boys,
Funkadelic,
Ituana,
Terry Callier,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bang On A Can,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ornette Coleman,
Malaria!,
Mission of Burma,
Yaz,
The Knickerbockers,
Fad Gadget,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kevin Saunderson,
Prince Buster,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Magazine,
R.M.O.,
Gichy Dan,
John Foxx,
Eurythmics,
Marshall Jefferson,
Moss Icon,
Eric Dolphy,
The Standells,
Deakin,
Aloha Tigers,
The Trojans,
Jeff Mills,
Cameo,
Pierre Henry,
Warren Ellis,
Sister Nancy,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rotary Connection,
Hoover,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Throbbing Gristle,
Nik Kershaw,
Section 25,
MDC,
F. McDonald,
Lindisfarne,
Archie Shepp,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Fuzztones,
Newcleus,
John Coltrane,
Deepchord,
Barbara Tucker,
Second Layer,
Brand Nubian,
China Crisis,
Davy DMX,
Jimmy McGriff,
JFA,
Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo.
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.