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 Azerbaijan and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 organ 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 Gabor Szabo to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Negative Approach. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
D'Angelo,
Camberwell Now,
The Cowsills,
June Days,
Cybotron,
The Doobie Brothers,
A Certain Ratio,
Yazoo,
The Sisters of Mercy,
John Lydon,
Bang On A Can,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Goldenarms,
Rakim,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Rekid,
The Dead C,
Black Flag,
Rufus Thomas,
The Selecter,
The Human League,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Altered Images,
Danielle Patucci,
Banda Bassotti,
Drexciya,
X-Ray Spex,
Prince Buster,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ultravox,
Carl Craig,
Skaos,
DJ Style,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Red Krayola,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tommy Roe,
Mary Jane Girls,
Alton Ellis,
Subhumans,
Liliput,
Qualms,
Country Teasers,
Harry Pussy,
Maurizio,
Arab on Radar,
Black Sheep,
The Kinks,
Public Enemy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Dead Boys,
Gang Starr,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Mandrill,
Curtis Mayfield,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Boredoms,
New Order,
Radiohead,
Audionom,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.