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 Portugal and from Columbus.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Woodstock.
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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Siglo XX to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ajijia Myrayebe,
David McCallum,
B.T. Express,
Mad Mike,
Bobby Sherman,
Fugazi,
Black Flag,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lou Christie,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Technova,
Monks,
The Dirtbombs,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
the Slits,
Mars,
Drexciya,
U.S. Maple,
Desert Stars,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ice-T,
KRS-One,
Pantaleimon,
Amazonics,
R.M.O.,
Juan Atkins,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Essential Logic,
Crooked Eye,
Minutemen,
Pulsallama,
Susan Cadogan,
The Walker Brothers,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Swans,
Agitation Free,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Blake Baxter,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Arcadia,
The Mojo Men,
Charles Mingus,
The Shadows of Knight,
Fad Gadget,
Quadrant,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Tremeloes,
The Leaves,
Mark Hollis,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Radio Birdman,
The New Christs,
Visage,
The Blues Magoos,
Kurtis Blow,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Alphaville,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.