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 Belarus and from Stockholm.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 D'Angelo to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Public Enemy. All the underground hits.
All Laurel Aitken tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joensuu 1685 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 synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a This Heat 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?
Khruangbin,
The Dead C,
The Real Kids,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Victims,
Can,
Cymande,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Selecter,
Alton Ellis,
Public Enemy,
Anakelly,
Main Source,
Mars,
Josef K,
Ronan,
Sugar Minott,
Bush Tetras,
Section 25,
James White and The Blacks,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kurtis Blow,
Grauzone,
Bob Dylan,
The Saints,
Brothers Johnson,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Smiths,
Jacob Miller,
the Soft Cell,
Oblivians,
Brick,
Hot Snakes,
Suicide,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
June Days,
Scrapy,
Deakin,
Glenn Branca,
Little Man,
Flamin' Groovies,
Reuben Wilson,
Brand Nubian,
Joe Smooth,
Sam Rivers,
The Walker Brothers,
Joy Division,
the Slits,
John Foxx,
Kevin Saunderson,
Babytalk,
The Young Rascals,
The Birthday Party,
Suburban Knight,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Mad Mike,
Dorothy Ashby,
Kerri Chandler,
Animal Collective,
Quadrant,
Visage,
Aswad,
Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock.
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.