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 Ireland and from Philadelphia.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 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 Lou Christie to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Procol Harum. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Danielle Patucci record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Eric Dolphy,
Wasted Youth,
Danielle Patucci,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ludus,
Dead Boys,
Marc Almond,
Bush Tetras,
Pulsallama,
Ohio Players,
Fatback Band,
Albert Ayler,
DJ Sneak,
Colin Newman,
T. Rex,
Eden Ahbez,
Smog,
Curtis Mayfield,
Country Teasers,
Lebanon Hanover,
Joy Division,
Bill Wells,
The Smiths,
Josef K,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Absolute Body Control,
Aural Exciters,
Grey Daturas,
This Heat,
Subhumans,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Golliwogs,
Kevin Saunderson,
Pylon,
Angry Samoans,
Drive Like Jehu,
The American Breed,
Chrome,
Ronnie Foster,
Los Fastidios,
Terry Callier,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Radiohead,
Interpol,
Lindisfarne,
The Raincoats,
Dawn Penn,
The Monks,
Big Daddy Kane,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Maurizio,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Eve St. Jones,
Pussy Galore,
Janne Schatter,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bang On A Can,
Desert Stars,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme.
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.