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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Lille.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 arpeggiator 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 Ralphi Rosario to the crunk 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 Suicide. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mad Mike record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
CMW,
The Neon Judgement,
the Association,
Curtis Mayfield,
Frankie Knuckles,
Rod Modell,
Zero Boys,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Can,
The Saints,
The Happenings,
Scientists,
Scion,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bad Manners,
Rekid,
Masters at Work,
Lower 48,
Rhythm & Sound,
Anthony Braxton,
Amon Düül,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Half Japanese,
Liliput,
Crispian St. Peters,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sarah Menescal,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Eric Copeland,
Mission of Burma,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Boogie Down Productions,
Quantec,
Tubeway Army,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sunsets and Hearts,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Juan Atkins,
The Monks,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Second Layer,
Henry Cow,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Crooked Eye,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Moody Blues,
Saccharine Trust,
X-102,
Arthur Verocai,
Jandek,
The American Breed,
Aloha Tigers,
Joey Negro,
The Gories,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Motorama,
Pussy Galore,
Tim Buckley,
Eli Mardock,
Ten City,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.