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 Dominica and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
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 Lou Reed & John Cale to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kurtis Blow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nico,
PIL,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Flesh Eaters,
Radio Birdman,
The New Christs,
Alice Coltrane,
Magma,
Funkadelic,
DJ Style,
Flash Fearless,
Ponytail,
Max Romeo,
The Real Kids,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Flipper,
MDC,
Gang Gang Dance,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sun Ra,
The Vogues,
Wolf Eyes,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Gil Scott Heron,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Jawbox,
David Bowie,
Goldenarms,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Minny Pops,
The Searchers,
Drive Like Jehu,
Brick,
Nation of Ulysses,
Mark Hollis,
Sonny Sharrock,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Porter Ricks,
Hardrive,
The Moody Blues,
The Motions,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Derrick May,
Tears for Fears,
Wasted Youth,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Laurel Aitken,
Hot Snakes,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
New Order,
Brand Nubian,
Quadrant,
Black Pus,
China Crisis,
Das Ding,
The Electric Prunes,
Adolescents,
Drexciya,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Skatalites,
Thee Headcoats,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.