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 Suriname and from Mexico City.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Cymande to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wire record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Curtis Mayfield record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pierre Henry,
Maleditus Sound,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Index,
The Remains,
Barrington Levy,
Sun City Girls,
Moby Grape,
Skriet,
Eden Ahbez,
Rhythm & Sound,
Rod Modell,
The Buckinghams,
Metal Thangz,
Joey Negro,
Faust,
Boz Scaggs,
Symarip,
Nico,
Soft Machine,
the Human League,
John Coltrane,
Frankie Knuckles,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Byron Stingily,
Don Cherry,
Gerry Rafferty,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ultra Naté,
Bobby Sherman,
X-Ray Spex,
Nick Fraelich,
Panda Bear,
The Beau Brummels,
Main Source,
Subhumans,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Dead Boys,
The Searchers,
The Standells,
The Litter,
Scrapy,
The Names,
Alison Limerick,
Monolake,
Marshall Jefferson,
Wasted Youth,
Alphaville,
Wally Richardson,
Gang of Four,
Jawbox,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Nas,
Roger Hodgson,
The American Breed,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Wings,
The Associates,
Cecil Taylor,
Piero Umiliani,
Eve St. Jones,
The Human League,
the Soft Cell,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.