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 Lille.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 linndrum 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Glambeats Corp.. All the underground hits.
All Colin Newman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donald Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kurtis Blow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Faraquet,
Rites of Spring,
Talk Talk,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Slackers,
Cymande,
Flipper,
Niagra,
Patti Smith,
Supertramp,
The Flesh Eaters,
Cluster,
R.M.O.,
Pierre Henry,
Groovy Waters,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lucky Dragons,
Japan,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Shuggie Otis,
Essential Logic,
Chrome,
the Fania All-Stars,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lyres,
These Immortal Souls,
H. Thieme,
Graham Central Station,
Todd Terry,
Dark Day,
Main Source,
Robert Wyatt,
June Days,
Silicon Teens,
Bronski Beat,
Pylon,
Ultra Naté,
Saccharine Trust,
Pagans,
Infiniti,
Section 25,
Dennis Brown,
Roxy Music,
Rhythm & Sound,
Scott Walker,
Sound Behaviour,
Eden Ahbez,
Albert Ayler,
Amon Düül,
Tommy Roe,
Dead Boys,
Desert Stars,
Scratch Acid,
Ornette Coleman,
B.T. Express,
Moby Grape,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sparks,
Lalann,
Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu.
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.