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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Portland.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool Moe Dee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Man Parrish,
D'Angelo,
The United States of America,
Y Pants,
Amazonics,
Grey Daturas,
Q65,
Ten City,
Erykah Badu,
Peter and Kerry,
Rod Modell,
Sugar Minott,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Wolf Eyes,
Basic Channel,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Yusef Lateef,
Black Bananas,
Bootsy Collins,
Bobby Sherman,
Mandrill,
Ronnie Foster,
Howard Jones,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Doors,
48th St. Collective,
Lalann,
the Slits,
Toni Rubio,
Leonard Cohen,
Cameo,
Ken Boothe,
Moby Grape,
Cecil Taylor,
T.S.O.L.,
The Skatalites,
Gil Scott Heron,
B.T. Express,
Faust,
La Düsseldorf,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lightning Bolt,
Spoonie Gee,
Anakelly,
Symarip,
Lou Reed,
Pylon,
The Raincoats,
The Stooges,
Malaria!,
The Moleskins,
Talk Talk,
Davy DMX,
Be Bop Deluxe,
the Normal,
Lebanon Hanover,
Jandek,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Kenny Larkin,
Terry Callier,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.