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 Costa Rica and from New York.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and New York.
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 theremin 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 Oblivians to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 the Slits. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Clarke,
Eric Dolphy,
Warren Ellis,
Ten City,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
the Swans,
Boredoms,
Terry Callier,
Joy Division,
The Barracudas,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Victims,
Amon Düül II,
Patti Smith,
Dark Day,
Deakin,
The Monks,
Brass Construction,
Stetsasonic,
Grauzone,
Minutemen,
Motorama,
Oneida,
U.S. Maple,
Thompson Twins,
The Divine Comedy,
Sixth Finger,
The J.B.'s,
The Trojans,
Blancmange,
Agitation Free,
Gichy Dan,
Bill Near,
Roy Ayers,
Camouflage,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Khruangbin,
The Zeros,
Hashim,
Mark Hollis,
UT,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Black Dice,
Panda Bear,
Flipper,
Maurizio,
cv313,
Reuben Wilson,
Rapeman,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Grass Roots,
Scrapy,
the Soft Cell,
Eurythmics,
Magazine,
Marine Girls,
Second Layer,
Stiv Bators,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.