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 Uzbekistan and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Mumbai.
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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Boz Scaggs to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Toni Rubio. All the underground hits.
All The Doors tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Iggy Pop,
Youth Brigade,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Blossom Toes,
The Techniques,
Goldenarms,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
cv313,
Black Sheep,
Slick Rick,
Flipper,
Zapp,
Barbara Tucker,
Half Japanese,
The Victims,
The Star Department,
Franke,
Terrestrial Tones,
Yaz,
Jeru the Damaja,
Surgeon,
Royal Trux,
Rites of Spring,
The Moleskins,
Infiniti,
Skriet,
Severed Heads,
Bob Dylan,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Wally Richardson,
Howard Jones,
Chrome,
The Monks,
Soul Sonic Force,
Warren Ellis,
Hardrive,
Bill Near,
John Holt,
B.T. Express,
Cecil Taylor,
Gerry Rafferty,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mary Jane Girls,
Roger Hodgson,
Aaron Thompson,
Q and Not U,
The Fortunes,
Los Fastidios,
Intrusion,
Sonny Sharrock,
Can,
Drive Like Jehu,
Urselle,
The Human League,
The Detroit Cobras,
Eve St. Jones,
Television,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Nirvana,
Josef K,
X-Ray Spex,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.