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 Samoa and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the jazz 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 The Busters. All the underground hits.
All Easy Going tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bauhaus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mighty Diamonds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
The Saints,
Rakim,
Drexciya,
Black Pus,
Funky Four + One,
Hardrive,
CMW,
The Black Dice,
Circle Jerks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Symarip,
One Last Wish,
Lightning Bolt,
Cymande,
Scientists,
The Flesh Eaters,
Man Parrish,
Letta Mbulu,
The Selecter,
Bluetip,
The Offenders,
Gong,
Ultimate Spinach,
Parry Music,
Charles Mingus,
Yusef Lateef,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Monochrome Set,
Ten City,
Toni Rubio,
Fugazi,
Wings,
Brothers Johnson,
Intrusion,
Marine Girls,
Alice Coltrane,
Newcleus,
U.S. Maple,
Motorama,
Laurel Aitken,
Maurizio,
The Dead C,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Cramps,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Chrome,
The Fugs,
Sun City Girls,
Joyce Sims,
Mantronix,
Agitation Free,
Girls At Our Best!,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Leonard Cohen,
Gil Scott Heron,
Crash Course in Science,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Second Layer,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes.
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.