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 Jamaica and from Glasgow.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Philadelphia.
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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the grime 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 Sly & The Family Stone. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Duran Duran record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lyres,
The Litter,
B.T. Express,
Young Marble Giants,
Brothers Johnson,
David Bowie,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Black Flag,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ken Boothe,
The Fuzztones,
Audionom,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Echospace,
Urselle,
Kaleidoscope,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ten City,
Kerrie Biddell,
Darondo,
The Buckinghams,
June of 44,
Bobby Sherman,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Blues Magoos,
The Trojans,
Absolute Body Control,
Cal Tjader,
LL Cool J,
Mission of Burma,
The United States of America,
The Gladiators,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Newcleus,
The Blackbyrds,
Barrington Levy,
Lee Hazlewood,
Goldenarms,
L. Decosne,
Japan,
the Normal,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Excepter,
Brand Nubian,
The Seeds,
The Modern Lovers,
Los Fastidios,
Zero Boys,
Supertramp,
Visage,
Mark Hollis,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Television,
Bluetip,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Monks,
the Germs,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.