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 Guinea-Bissau and from Philadelphia.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 guitar 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 Pantaleimon to the techno 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 Doors. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Sonics 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gabor Szabo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
Silicon Teens,
Surgeon,
Deepchord,
Soul Sonic Force,
Max Romeo,
T. Rex,
OOIOO,
The Birthday Party,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Scientists,
Rekid,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Young Rascals,
Lebanon Hanover,
KRS-One,
Fat Boys,
Guru Guru,
Bob Dylan,
Suicide,
The Five Americans,
Barclay James Harvest,
Y Pants,
Ice-T,
The Cure,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Public Enemy,
Mr. Review,
Reuben Wilson,
Arab on Radar,
David Bowie,
Scan 7,
John Coltrane,
Ken Boothe,
Roxy Music,
Glenn Branca,
Duran Duran,
Barry Ungar,
Kevin Saunderson,
Zero Boys,
DJ Sneak,
Swans,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Stereo Dub,
Lalann,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Black Sheep,
D'Angelo,
Second Layer,
Ornette Coleman,
PIL,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Beau Brummels,
Joey Negro,
Sam Rivers,
The Tremeloes,
Rites of Spring,
Peter and Kerry,
Infiniti,
Sun City Girls,
Ash Ra Tempel,
the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.