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 United Kingdom and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 spring reverb 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 The Blues Magoos 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 The Monochrome Set. All the underground hits.
All Patti Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neil Young record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
Connie Case,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
John Coltrane,
Funkadelic,
Anthony Braxton,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Kerrie Biddell,
Monolake,
Ten City,
Archie Shepp,
The Selecter,
The Blues Magoos,
FM Einheit,
Radio Birdman,
The Grass Roots,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sparks,
Jawbox,
The Litter,
Altered Images,
Infiniti,
ABC,
Graham Central Station,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Rekid,
James White and The Blacks,
Hasil Adkins,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Half Japanese,
Freddie Wadling,
X-Ray Spex,
Tropical Tobacco,
Roger Hodgson,
Surgeon,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Offenders,
Lower 48,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Chris & Cosey,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Wings,
Ultravox,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ultimate Spinach,
Erasure,
Cluster,
Avey Tare,
Flamin' Groovies,
Basic Channel,
Roxette,
Brass Construction,
The Buckinghams,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
One Last Wish,
Laurel Aitken,
Camberwell Now,
The Associates,
Pagans,
Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül.
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.