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 South Sudan and from Tehran.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Tommy Roe 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 Deakin. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gladiators,
The Durutti Column,
Man Eating Sloth,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
New Order,
Boz Scaggs,
Matthew Bourne,
Tears for Fears,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Outsiders,
X-Ray Spex,
James White and The Blacks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Seeds,
Sam Rivers,
Morten Harket,
Negative Approach,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Charles Mingus,
Can,
Scion,
Derrick May,
Hot Snakes,
The Moleskins,
The Buckinghams,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
MDC,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Intrusion,
In Retrospect,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Scrapy,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Aural Exciters,
Groovy Waters,
The Electric Prunes,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Chrome,
Idris Muhammad,
Oblivians,
Cluster,
Smog,
Warren Ellis,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bad Manners,
The Divine Comedy,
Stetsasonic,
Kerrie Biddell,
10cc,
Aloha Tigers,
Connie Case,
Pylon,
Silicon Teens,
Aaron Thompson,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Modern Lovers,
David Axelrod,
E-Dancer,
The Misunderstood,
Black Bananas,
Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players.
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.