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 Cameroon and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud to the funk 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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All the Normal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Judy Mowatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Motorama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
Avey Tare,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Jeff Lynne,
Nico,
Neil Young,
B.T. Express,
Theoretical Girls,
EPMD,
Malaria!,
Brass Construction,
Stockholm Monsters,
Tim Buckley,
Warsaw,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Throbbing Gristle,
Nik Kershaw,
Kenny Larkin,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Livin' Joy,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Mojo Men,
Neu!,
The Fuzztones,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Pharoah Sanders,
Piero Umiliani,
New Order,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Magma,
Agitation Free,
Ronan,
Faraquet,
Smog,
Anthony Braxton,
Byron Stingily,
The Toasters,
Yellowson,
Audionom,
Q and Not U,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Deepchord,
Nirvana,
The Monks,
F. McDonald,
The Knickerbockers,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Panda Bear,
Mantronix,
T.S.O.L.,
Godley & Creme,
Mars,
Alice Coltrane,
Lyres,
The Angels of Light,
Marshall Jefferson,
Infiniti,
The Pretty Things,
Kerrie Biddell,
Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles.
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.