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 Paris.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra to the disco 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 The Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Zapp record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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 Chocolate Watch Band,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sex Pistols,
The Fugs,
The Toasters,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Divine Comedy,
Deakin,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bootsy Collins,
The Dirtbombs,
Kerri Chandler,
Country Teasers,
Derrick Morgan,
Soft Machine,
Reuben Wilson,
The Move,
Adolescents,
Animal Collective,
Slick Rick,
the Germs,
Circle Jerks,
Marmalade,
Marshall Jefferson,
Ituana,
Boz Scaggs,
The Pop Group,
This Heat,
Chris & Cosey,
Stereo Dub,
New Age Steppers,
Lindisfarne,
Black Moon,
The Mighty Diamonds,
John Foxx,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bush Tetras,
Marc Almond,
Drive Like Jehu,
Au Pairs,
Robert Hood,
DJ Style,
Josef K,
Mission of Burma,
Al Stewart,
The Smiths,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Fela Kuti,
Gichy Dan,
Skarface,
Monks,
Clear Light,
Ponytail,
Wings,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Eddi Front,
D'Angelo,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Interpol,
The Busters,
The Zeros,
Cybotron,
Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson.
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.