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 Switzerland and from Copenhagen.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Jesper Dahlbäck to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Motorama. All the underground hits.
All Dual Sessions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Curtis Mayfield,
The Mojo Men,
F. McDonald,
Moby Grape,
Schoolly D,
Das Ding,
Animal Collective,
Charles Mingus,
The Human League,
Mars,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Chris & Cosey,
Susan Cadogan,
Eve St. Jones,
JFA,
The Fire Engines,
a-ha,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Bobby Womack,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Monochrome Set,
Rekid,
Newcleus,
Idris Muhammad,
Television,
Ultra Naté,
Lakeside,
Anakelly,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Knickerbockers,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sam Rivers,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Techniques,
The Electric Prunes,
Soulsonic Force,
Swell Maps,
Steve Hackett,
Flash Fearless,
Guru Guru,
Cal Tjader,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Stiv Bators,
This Heat,
Buzzcocks,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Dead C,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Real Kids,
The Golliwogs,
Grandmaster Flash,
Desert Stars,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sound Behaviour,
Judy Mowatt,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ituana,
Livin' Joy,
Flipper,
Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet.
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.