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 South Sudan and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Sun Ra to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Sister Nancy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joey Negro record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sixth Finger,
Pharoah Sanders,
Soft Cell,
Bad Manners,
Slave,
Pussy Galore,
Jacob Miller,
The Black Dice,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Lungfish,
the Fania All-Stars,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Jacques Brel,
Talk Talk,
Severed Heads,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Standells,
Kevin Saunderson,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Offenders,
Spandau Ballet,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Moody Blues,
Porter Ricks,
Brothers Johnson,
Pierre Henry,
Nick Fraelich,
Avey Tare,
Swell Maps,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Graham Central Station,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Flamin' Groovies,
the Normal,
Scion,
Goldenarms,
Nico,
Radio Birdman,
Rosa Yemen,
Ultra Naté,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Index,
Bootsy Collins,
Pylon,
Amon Düül II,
Anthony Braxton,
The Music Machine,
Nation of Ulysses,
Black Sheep,
Magma,
Bobby Womack,
Connie Case,
Minor Threat,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Amazonics,
Spoonie Gee,
Curtis Mayfield,
Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim.
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.