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 Djibouti and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 guitar 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 Roy Ayers to the grime 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 The Motions. All the underground hits.
All Popol Vuh tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MDC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fuzztones,
Hot Snakes,
Cecil Taylor,
Crispian St. Peters,
Slave,
Gil Scott Heron,
Shuggie Otis,
Archie Shepp,
Camouflage,
Jeff Mills,
Tubeway Army,
David McCallum,
Ice-T,
Zapp,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
John Foxx,
Nirvana,
Rufus Thomas,
Ludus,
Bronski Beat,
Ronnie Foster,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Lyres,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Rotary Connection,
Rod Modell,
the Association,
Sixth Finger,
Electric Prunes,
John Holt,
Oblivians,
Tim Buckley,
Don Cherry,
Rosa Yemen,
Thee Headcoats,
Idris Muhammad,
Nas,
Minnie Riperton,
This Heat,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Harry Pussy,
Man Parrish,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pole,
Donny Hathaway,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Gladiators,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Inner City,
Max Romeo,
Little Man,
The Walker Brothers,
Girls At Our Best!,
Zero Boys,
Von Mondo,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Motorama,
The Techniques,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Sound, The Sound, The Sound, The Sound.
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.