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 Malta and from Beijing.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Bobby Womack to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All Thompson Twins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxette,
X-102,
D'Angelo,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Joey Negro,
Cybotron,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Kinks,
Mr. Review,
Agitation Free,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bobby Byrd,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Robert Wyatt,
Deadbeat,
Black Pus,
Symarip,
Morten Harket,
the Germs,
The Birthday Party,
Quando Quango,
Hoover,
U.S. Maple,
Ultra Naté,
Pharoah Sanders,
Boz Scaggs,
The Dirtbombs,
Clear Light,
The Misunderstood,
Fad Gadget,
Deepchord,
Donny Hathaway,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bobby Womack,
the Swans,
Cecil Taylor,
Crispy Ambulance,
Adolescents,
Main Source,
Section 25,
The J.B.'s,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Gang of Four,
Nirvana,
June of 44,
Wings,
Cluster,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Pretty Things,
Blake Baxter,
Vladislav Delay,
The Standells,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Joe Finger,
UT,
Erykah Badu,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.