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 Gambia and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 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 The Seeds to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric B and Rakim,
Eli Mardock,
Clear Light,
The Raincoats,
The Blackbyrds,
X-Ray Spex,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Evens,
Jandek,
Spandau Ballet,
Rod Modell,
The Litter,
Tres Demented,
Donny Hathaway,
Prince Buster,
Radio Birdman,
Fatback Band,
Laurel Aitken,
Black Flag,
Joe Smooth,
The Vogues,
the Slits,
Josef K,
Sister Nancy,
Fat Boys,
China Crisis,
L. Decosne,
Radiopuhelimet,
Dennis Brown,
Y Pants,
Max Romeo,
Underground Resistance,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Eric Dolphy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kool Moe Dee,
Von Mondo,
Wasted Youth,
Janne Schatter,
Animal Collective,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Roger Hodgson,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
David Axelrod,
JFA,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Moby Grape,
Icehouse,
Pylon,
The Count Five,
Cheater Slicks,
Big Daddy Kane,
T. Rex,
Excepter,
The Gun Club,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bronski Beat,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Searchers,
Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe.
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.