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 Senegal and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 sitar 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 Ajijia Myrayebe to the techno 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 Minutemen. All the underground hits.
All Brick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Busters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Seeds,
Henry Cow,
The Detroit Cobras,
Yusef Lateef,
Country Teasers,
The Fortunes,
Eddi Front,
Half Japanese,
Bob Dylan,
Buzzcocks,
The Saints,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Arthur Verocai,
Barbara Tucker,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Dead C,
Max Romeo,
Johnny Clarke,
Yazoo,
Rufus Thomas,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gong,
Masters at Work,
Ken Boothe,
CMW,
the Sonics,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Television Personalities,
Amon Düül II,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Albert Ayler,
X-102,
Erykah Badu,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gabor Szabo,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Talk Talk,
Wire,
Derrick Morgan,
E-Dancer,
Andrew Hill,
Ludus,
Pantytec,
Babytalk,
Sexual Harrassment,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Siglo XX,
Terry Callier,
The Fugs,
Crispian St. Peters,
AZ,
Stiv Bators,
Monks,
Tomorrow,
The Monochrome Set,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Kevin Saunderson,
Letta Mbulu,
Yaz,
The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones.
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.