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 El Salvador and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 Woodstock and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 organ 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 Rotary Connection 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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon. All the underground hits.
All Tres Demented tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deakin 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Divine Comedy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
The Smoke,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Public Enemy,
The Skatalites,
Blossom Toes,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Cluster,
The Wake,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Altered Images,
Yazoo,
Circle Jerks,
Los Fastidios,
Scion,
The Monochrome Set,
Make Up,
Suburban Knight,
Stereo Dub,
In Retrospect,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Adolescents,
Don Cherry,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Hot Snakes,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Slackers,
48th St. Collective,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Scott Walker,
Radiohead,
The Angels of Light,
Matthew Bourne,
Erasure,
Bootsy Collins,
U.S. Maple,
James White and The Blacks,
Interpol,
Quando Quango,
The Fuzztones,
F. McDonald,
Crispy Ambulance,
Derrick May,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Johnny Osbourne,
K-Klass,
The Dirtbombs,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Average White Band,
Letta Mbulu,
Gabor Szabo,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Theoretical Girls,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bang On A Can,
The Detroit Cobras,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Colin Newman,
June of 44,
Minny Pops,
Graham Central Station,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.