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 Senegal and from Woodstock.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 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 Black Pus to the grime 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 Television. All the underground hits.
All Kool Moe Dee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Fraelich record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eddi Front record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
The Fugs,
Sun Ra,
Tropical Tobacco,
James White and The Blacks,
Sound Behaviour,
Lucky Dragons,
Mo-Dettes,
Sexual Harrassment,
Soft Cell,
Johnny Clarke,
Minnie Riperton,
Freddie Wadling,
Lower 48,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Curtis Mayfield,
Nik Kershaw,
Rekid,
Goldenarms,
The Five Americans,
Black Bananas,
Ronan,
The Cowsills,
Harry Pussy,
Angry Samoans,
Soulsonic Force,
Heaven 17,
Sixth Finger,
Panda Bear,
Dave Gahan,
Fugazi,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Maleditus Sound,
Deakin,
Connie Case,
Davy DMX,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Rhythm & Sound,
Zapp,
Terry Callier,
Wings,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Smoke,
Country Teasers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Quantec,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Raincoats,
Gang Gang Dance,
Susan Cadogan,
Pharoah Sanders,
Desert Stars,
Monks,
The Music Machine,
Technova,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Nick Fraelich,
The Litter,
Visage,
Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol.
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.