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 Fiji and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cluster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
Porter Ricks,
Motorama,
The Beau Brummels,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Grass Roots,
Absolute Body Control,
Todd Terry,
Kerri Chandler,
Angry Samoans,
Rekid,
Johnny Osbourne,
Trumans Water,
The Gun Club,
Wire,
DJ Style,
Ash Ra Tempel,
the Fania All-Stars,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Robert Hood,
Shuggie Otis,
Magazine,
Lungfish,
Japan,
Roy Ayers,
Dead Boys,
Dave Gahan,
Desert Stars,
Lyres,
the Germs,
10cc,
The Mojo Men,
The Invisible,
Los Fastidios,
Sandy B,
AZ,
Fluxion,
Eden Ahbez,
The Zeros,
Nas,
Mission of Burma,
The Smiths,
Delta 5,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Soulsonic Force,
Neu!,
Frankie Knuckles,
Cameo,
Con Funk Shun,
Moss Icon,
Boredoms,
Q and Not U,
Thee Headcoats,
Juan Atkins,
Franke,
Sugar Minott,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.