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 Congo and from Taipei.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Edmonton.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Buzzcocks to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sam Rivers 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reuben Wilson,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Fat Boys,
The Golliwogs,
The J.B.'s,
The Gun Club,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bang On A Can,
Arcadia,
Soft Cell,
Alphaville,
Infiniti,
Dorothy Ashby,
Freddie Wadling,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gregory Isaacs,
Piero Umiliani,
Flamin' Groovies,
Don Cherry,
Ornette Coleman,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Erykah Badu,
Bobby Womack,
Kenny Larkin,
Scion,
Clear Light,
Todd Terry,
PIL,
Althea and Donna,
Accadde A,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Underground Resistance,
Buzzcocks,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Kurtis Blow,
Grandmaster Flash,
Gabor Szabo,
David McCallum,
Lucky Dragons,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Blackbyrds,
Unwound,
The Searchers,
Sandy B,
Khruangbin,
Soul II Soul,
Crooked Eye,
Crime,
Jeru the Damaja,
Organ,
Terry Callier,
K-Klass,
These Immortal Souls,
Faust,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Au Pairs,
Metal Thangz,
Curtis Mayfield,
Scott Walker,
Donald Byrd,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Rosa Yemen,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.