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 Gabon and from New York.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Manchester.
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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Eli Mardock to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Piero Umiliani. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fugs 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grauzone,
Lalann,
Delta 5,
Absolute Body Control,
Altered Images,
Livin' Joy,
Funky Four + One,
Ralphi Rosario,
Tommy Roe,
Skriet,
Masters at Work,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Birthday Party,
cv313,
The Knickerbockers,
Jeff Mills,
the Slits,
The Durutti Column,
The Grass Roots,
The Gap Band,
Rosa Yemen,
Brick,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Mark Hollis,
The Happenings,
Stereo Dub,
Pierre Henry,
Duran Duran,
Eden Ahbez,
The Gun Club,
Trumans Water,
June of 44,
Big Daddy Kane,
Joyce Sims,
Spoonie Gee,
LL Cool J,
Isaac Hayes,
Sugar Minott,
The Dirtbombs,
Pere Ubu,
Angry Samoans,
Peter and Kerry,
Y Pants,
Goldenarms,
The Alarm Clocks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rites of Spring,
ABBA,
Chris Corsano,
Brothers Johnson,
Ronnie Foster,
Gichy Dan,
Yazoo,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Thee Headcoats,
La Düsseldorf,
Icehouse,
Stiv Bators,
H. Thieme,
The Slits,
The Detroit Cobras,
JFA, JFA, JFA, JFA.
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.