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 Belgium and from Cairo.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Spoonie Gee to the rock 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All The Techniques tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Connie Case 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Vogues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unwound,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Dead C,
Sun Ra,
Kenny Larkin,
Roxette,
X-101,
Kerrie Biddell,
Judy Mowatt,
X-Ray Spex,
Sällskapet,
New Age Steppers,
La Düsseldorf,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
CMW,
Agitation Free,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Talk Talk,
Fear,
Sister Nancy,
F. McDonald,
The Smiths,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Malaria!,
Deakin,
Monolake,
Man Eating Sloth,
Magma,
Qualms,
Eurythmics,
Popol Vuh,
Babytalk,
Pantaleimon,
Laurel Aitken,
Angry Samoans,
Nik Kershaw,
Eric B and Rakim,
Inner City,
Q and Not U,
Funky Four + One,
The Cramps,
One Last Wish,
D'Angelo,
Moss Icon,
These Immortal Souls,
Derrick Morgan,
The Seeds,
The Detroit Cobras,
10cc,
Rapeman,
Organ,
Unrelated Segments,
Todd Terry,
Big Daddy Kane,
Fad Gadget,
Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly.
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.