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 Laos and from Winnipeg.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 harpsichord 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Echo & the Bunnymen. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Enemy,
Sällskapet,
Rosa Yemen,
Funky Four + One,
Rekid,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Busters,
Gregory Isaacs,
the Human League,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Rod Modell,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Dave Gahan,
Cecil Taylor,
Slave,
Angry Samoans,
Eve St. Jones,
The Smiths,
Black Sheep,
The Fire Engines,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Youth Brigade,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Matthew Bourne,
Tim Buckley,
Technova,
Reagan Youth,
Bill Near,
Big Daddy Kane,
Albert Ayler,
Fatback Band,
X-102,
Severed Heads,
T.S.O.L.,
Gang of Four,
The Standells,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Gladiators,
The Doors,
Unrelated Segments,
Accadde A,
Outsiders,
Thompson Twins,
Pere Ubu,
Interpol,
Ultimate Spinach,
Talk Talk,
Sam Rivers,
Wire,
The Skatalites,
Unwound,
Hot Snakes,
The Fuzztones,
Deakin,
Fad Gadget,
Kenny Larkin,
Schoolly D,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Buzzcocks,
Todd Terry,
Cymande, Cymande, Cymande, Cymande.
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.