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 Peru and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Steve Hackett to the rock 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 Country Joe & The Fish. All the underground hits.
All Michelle Simonal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scrapy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yusef Lateef record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
Pylon,
Make Up,
DJ Style,
Barclay James Harvest,
Mission of Burma,
This Heat,
AZ,
The Star Department,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Blues Magoos,
Eric Dolphy,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Porter Ricks,
The Five Americans,
Minny Pops,
Anthony Braxton,
KRS-One,
James White and The Blacks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Pantaleimon,
Johnny Osbourne,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Electric Prunes,
the Soft Cell,
Jesper Dahlback,
Graham Central Station,
Lyres,
Black Pus,
Los Fastidios,
Stetsasonic,
Motorama,
Mr. Review,
Ossler,
Judy Mowatt,
The Pop Group,
The Doors,
Second Layer,
Barbara Tucker,
Fear,
Chris Corsano,
The Fall,
Shuggie Otis,
Ornette Coleman,
Oneida,
X-101,
Sex Pistols,
Cybotron,
Blake Baxter,
Vainqueur,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Joy Division,
The New Christs,
X-Ray Spex,
Leonard Cohen,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ken Boothe,
Wings,
Theoretical Girls,
K-Klass,
Bill Wells,
EPMD, EPMD, EPMD, EPMD.
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.