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 Burkina and from Shanghai.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Connie Case to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Ossler. All the underground hits.
All Michelle Simonal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Whodini record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Little Man,
The Mummies,
DJ Sneak,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Residents,
Icehouse,
Lower 48,
Lucky Dragons,
Lalann,
Ludus,
Blancmange,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Fela Kuti,
Swell Maps,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Desert Stars,
Hashim,
These Immortal Souls,
Lou Christie,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Tom Boy,
The Zeros,
Oblivians,
The American Breed,
Cluster,
Organ,
Boredoms,
X-Ray Spex,
Rotary Connection,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Fortunes,
Albert Ayler,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Associates,
Average White Band,
Unwound,
The Electric Prunes,
The Knickerbockers,
Amazonics,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Agitation Free,
Maurizio,
Althea and Donna,
Cal Tjader,
The Skatalites,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Janne Schatter,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Ossler,
Eli Mardock,
KRS-One,
Prince Buster,
Shuggie Otis,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ralphi Rosario,
Nico,
Fat Boys,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.