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 Turkmenistan and from Jakarta.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Nik Kershaw to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Fania All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All LL Cool J tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger 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?
The Black Dice,
Byron Stingily,
Terry Callier,
Country Teasers,
Faust,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ice-T,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Bizarre Inc.,
Robert Görl,
Aural Exciters,
Black Flag,
Livin' Joy,
Whodini,
Laurel Aitken,
Khruangbin,
Pet Shop Boys,
David Bowie,
Shoche,
Bobby Sherman,
Reuben Wilson,
Pulsallama,
Cymande,
The Fall,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Traffic Nightmare,
Camberwell Now,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Junior Murvin,
Gang Starr,
The Gladiators,
The Standells,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Saints,
Simply Red,
Avey Tare,
MC5,
The Trojans,
DJ Sneak,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Young Rascals,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lungfish,
Easy Going,
Black Sheep,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
UT,
Fear,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Mummies,
Barry Ungar,
Faraquet,
Neil Young,
Arab on Radar,
Section 25,
Minutemen,
Goldenarms,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.