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 Rwanda and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Taipei.
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 Tom Verlaine 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 Boogie Down Productions to the funk 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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fluxion 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Young Marble Giants,
K-Klass,
The Doors,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lalo Schifrin,
Nas,
Wasted Youth,
The Offenders,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Nirvana,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Franke,
Pierre Henry,
Mr. Review,
Althea and Donna,
David Axelrod,
Con Funk Shun,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Mission of Burma,
Tears for Fears,
Kerri Chandler,
the Normal,
Rekid,
The Moleskins,
Derrick May,
Pere Ubu,
U.S. Maple,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Suicide,
Radiopuhelimet,
UT,
Archie Shepp,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Invisible,
Boredoms,
Mandrill,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Grandmaster Flash,
Sister Nancy,
Interpol,
The Remains,
In Retrospect,
The American Breed,
New York Dolls,
F. McDonald,
Half Japanese,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Dawn Penn,
Minnie Riperton,
Glenn Branca,
Ronnie Foster,
Q and Not U,
Robert Wyatt,
Don Cherry,
The Standells,
Soul II Soul,
Roxy Music,
Dark Day,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Livin' Joy,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.