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 Liberia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 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 Urselle to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
Pere Ubu,
Arthur Verocai,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Graham Central Station,
Bobby Sherman,
Marmalade,
Sällskapet,
Brick,
Mantronix,
The Toasters,
John Holt,
Althea and Donna,
Fear,
The Barracudas,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gang Starr,
Pole,
Mary Jane Girls,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Frankie Knuckles,
Das Ding,
Kerrie Biddell,
Tropical Tobacco,
Television,
Gong,
Con Funk Shun,
Livin' Joy,
The Dead C,
Sun Ra,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Audionom,
Eurythmics,
Basic Channel,
Banda Bassotti,
Y Pants,
Charles Mingus,
Los Fastidios,
The Move,
In Retrospect,
Terrestrial Tones,
Dorothy Ashby,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Thee Headcoats,
Silicon Teens,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Easy Going,
Nico,
Matthew Halsall,
Tommy Roe,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Tubeway Army,
Mad Mike,
Arcadia,
Nick Fraelich,
the Association,
Barrington Levy,
Dark Day,
Liliput,
Colin Newman,
China Crisis,
Eric Copeland,
Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus.
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.