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 Benin and from Hong Kong.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 808 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 Big Daddy Kane to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Fat Boys. All the underground hits.
All Y Pants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Babytalk,
Ludus,
Buzzcocks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Spoonie Gee,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Wolf Eyes,
Adolescents,
Alton Ellis,
Banda Bassotti,
Sight & Sound,
Amon Düül II,
Subhumans,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Morten Harket,
Black Sheep,
Davy DMX,
H. Thieme,
Pole,
Con Funk Shun,
The Moleskins,
Quadrant,
Cymande,
Dennis Brown,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Shadows of Knight,
Absolute Body Control,
KRS-One,
Todd Rundgren,
Kerri Chandler,
Harmonia,
Slick Rick,
Zapp,
Black Moon,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Minnie Riperton,
Bad Manners,
The Cowsills,
Charles Mingus,
Wire,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Glenn Branca,
Lakeside,
Gerry Rafferty,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Circle Jerks,
The Grass Roots,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
X-101,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Litter,
Don Cherry,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ken Boothe,
Lindisfarne,
Leonard Cohen,
Franke,
Bill Wells,
Jacques Brel,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.