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 Zambia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the sitar 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 Radio Birdman to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All Mark Hollis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Fear,
8 Eyed Spy,
Quadrant,
Skarface,
Albert Ayler,
Masters at Work,
L. Decosne,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Cluster,
Jacob Miller,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ultimate Spinach,
Slick Rick,
Nico,
The Kinks,
Blancmange,
Soft Cell,
Mr. Review,
Wings,
Gong,
Bobby Sherman,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bootsy Collins,
Massinfluence,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Alarm Clocks,
Flamin' Groovies,
Schoolly D,
The Pretty Things,
Main Source,
Peter & Gordon,
Hot Snakes,
Eddi Front,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Fatback Band,
Fat Boys,
Saccharine Trust,
Black Flag,
Cybotron,
Tubeway Army,
Dawn Penn,
D'Angelo,
Nas,
Rapeman,
Roy Ayers,
Letta Mbulu,
Eric Dolphy,
Cymande,
The Slackers,
Marine Girls,
Bang On A Can,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Five Americans,
Johnny Osbourne,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Vogues,
Spoonie Gee,
Sparks,
Flash Fearless,
the Slits,
Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls.
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.