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 Syria and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 güiro 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 Liliput to the electroclash 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 Nick Fraelich. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sonny Sharrock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moleskins,
Brand Nubian,
F. McDonald,
The Residents,
Fad Gadget,
The Move,
The Knickerbockers,
Wasted Youth,
Roxy Music,
the Normal,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Howard Jones,
The Shadows of Knight,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Grauzone,
The Smoke,
The Dead C,
Bauhaus,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Livin' Joy,
Cybotron,
John Foxx,
R.M.O.,
The Martian,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Black Moon,
Grey Daturas,
The Kinks,
Con Funk Shun,
The Invisible,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Althea and Donna,
Depeche Mode,
Michelle Simonal,
Porter Ricks,
The Red Krayola,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Blancmange,
New Age Steppers,
Scrapy,
Brass Construction,
Pussy Galore,
Mad Mike,
Eddi Front,
Lindisfarne,
Joe Smooth,
Shoche,
Infiniti,
Dorothy Ashby,
Danielle Patucci,
Gichy Dan,
Franke,
Jacques Brel,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Delon & Dalcan,
L. Decosne,
Make Up,
Soul Sonic Force,
Rakim,
Terry Callier,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.