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 Qatar and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 synthesizer 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 The Golliwogs to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 48th St. Collective. All the underground hits.
All Radiopuhelimet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every FM Einheit 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lizzy Mercier Descloux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nation of Ulysses,
The Flesh Eaters,
Black Sheep,
Soul Sonic Force,
Eden Ahbez,
Whodini,
Yellowson,
Danielle Patucci,
Hoover,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Interpol,
Mo-Dettes,
Vainqueur,
The Doobie Brothers,
Accadde A,
Surgeon,
The Pop Group,
Davy DMX,
The Fortunes,
Deadbeat,
Hasil Adkins,
Grey Daturas,
Roy Ayers,
John Coltrane,
Tomorrow,
Susan Cadogan,
The Fall,
Outsiders,
Ludus,
The Barracudas,
Minnie Riperton,
Barry Ungar,
Swell Maps,
These Immortal Souls,
Sexual Harrassment,
Aaron Thompson,
The Searchers,
Suburban Knight,
Lower 48,
KRS-One,
cv313,
Traffic Nightmare,
10cc,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Maurizio,
Average White Band,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Johnny Clarke,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Cluster,
Flash Fearless,
Simply Red,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Zero Boys,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sonny Sharrock,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Masters at Work,
Arab on Radar,
Basic Channel, Basic Channel, Basic Channel, Basic Channel.
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.