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 Bangladesh and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 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 Clear Light to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Blancmange. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vainqueur 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Panda Bear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Bar-Kays,
Connie Case,
Supertramp,
Spandau Ballet,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Quadrant,
Eden Ahbez,
Charles Mingus,
EPMD,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Blues Magoos,
Swell Maps,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Names,
Niagra,
cv313,
The Invisible,
The Gories,
Reagan Youth,
Soul II Soul,
Talk Talk,
The Fire Engines,
Letta Mbulu,
Spoonie Gee,
Sonny Sharrock,
Stetsasonic,
The Toasters,
Hasil Adkins,
Ultimate Spinach,
Aaron Thompson,
Lee Hazlewood,
the Association,
Robert Hood,
Blossom Toes,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Carl Craig,
Ice-T,
Kayak,
Moby Grape,
Nirvana,
Sällskapet,
Marmalade,
Slick Rick,
Idris Muhammad,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Shoche,
Theoretical Girls,
Nik Kershaw,
Matthew Bourne,
Traffic Nightmare,
Black Sheep,
Rites of Spring,
Rod Modell,
Juan Atkins,
Danielle Patucci,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Motorama,
Pantaleimon,
Neu!,
Infiniti,
In Retrospect,
Organ,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.