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 Equatorial Guinea and from Seoul.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Paris.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the 808 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the crunk 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 Zeros. All the underground hits.
All Ronnie Foster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Mills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Music Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Metal Thangz,
The Busters,
DNA,
Lou Reed,
The Selecter,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kurtis Blow,
Jandek,
Arab on Radar,
The Zeros,
Hot Snakes,
Rekid,
H. Thieme,
Audionom,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Trumans Water,
Laurel Aitken,
Lee Hazlewood,
Godley & Creme,
Camberwell Now,
Man Eating Sloth,
Roxy Music,
The Birthday Party,
the Bar-Kays,
Rhythm & Sound,
Zero Boys,
Henry Cow,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lalann,
Rapeman,
Kas Product,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Tremeloes,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Boredoms,
Gastr Del Sol,
Little Man,
Rakim,
Harmonia,
Second Layer,
Magazine,
The Red Krayola,
E-Dancer,
David McCallum,
Cymande,
Franke,
Agitation Free,
Mission of Burma,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Hashim,
The Moody Blues,
The Barracudas,
The Standells,
Goldenarms,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
James White and The Blacks,
Idris Muhammad,
The Fugs,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Surgeon,
Unwound,
Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends.
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.