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 Uganda and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 rhodes 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 Derrick May to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Royal Trux. All the underground hits.
All Ronnie Foster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
Gerry Rafferty,
Buzzcocks,
Motorama,
Pulsallama,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Symarip,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Cowsills,
the Association,
Kool Moe Dee,
Warren Ellis,
Dawn Penn,
Con Funk Shun,
U.S. Maple,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Velvet Underground,
Pierre Henry,
Surgeon,
James White and The Blacks,
Idris Muhammad,
Morten Harket,
Ten City,
Alton Ellis,
Mantronix,
Icehouse,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Colin Newman,
Swans,
Bluetip,
Ponytail,
Newcleus,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Real Kids,
Sällskapet,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Youth Brigade,
Archie Shepp,
Susan Cadogan,
Chris & Cosey,
Terry Callier,
Skaos,
Kaleidoscope,
Barry Ungar,
Wally Richardson,
Sex Pistols,
John Holt,
Little Man,
Roxette,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Sonics,
Man Parrish,
The Fortunes,
Black Pus,
Soul Sonic Force,
Hashim,
Warsaw,
Sister Nancy,
Maleditus Sound,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy.
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.