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 Malaysia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Zapp to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tubeway Army 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funky Four + One,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sonny Sharrock,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lindisfarne,
Lou Christie,
The Sonics,
Warsaw,
Section 25,
Maurizio,
The Skatalites,
Be Bop Deluxe,
the Bar-Kays,
Joe Finger,
Nation of Ulysses,
Soft Cell,
Heaven 17,
8 Eyed Spy,
Graham Central Station,
Janne Schatter,
The Stooges,
10cc,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Monks,
Guru Guru,
Barbara Tucker,
Smog,
Mad Mike,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Fela Kuti,
Soul II Soul,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Duran Duran,
Reagan Youth,
The Cramps,
Thee Headcoats,
Sam Rivers,
Talk Talk,
The Kinks,
Traffic Nightmare,
Pantaleimon,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Todd Terry,
Grandmaster Flash,
Angry Samoans,
Amon Düül II,
Freddie Wadling,
Inner City,
June Days,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Nils Olav,
Lucky Dragons,
Scan 7,
Camouflage,
Letta Mbulu,
Tropical Tobacco,
Can,
Big Daddy Kane,
Al Stewart,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.