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 Thailand and from Shanghai.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Angry Samoans to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sly & The Family Stone. All the underground hits.
All The Smoke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Quando Quango,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Faraquet,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Iggy Pop,
Sugar Minott,
48th St. Collective,
Yaz,
Funky Four + One,
Desert Stars,
8 Eyed Spy,
Heaven 17,
Eden Ahbez,
Das Ding,
The Skatalites,
The Fall,
Piero Umiliani,
Amon Düül,
Suicide,
The Monks,
Whodini,
Mark Hollis,
Nation of Ulysses,
Connie Case,
Mary Jane Girls,
Nick Fraelich,
Black Moon,
Silicon Teens,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pierre Henry,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Dual Sessions,
The Mummies,
Cameo,
Jeff Lynne,
Bobby Womack,
Colin Newman,
The Slackers,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Black Flag,
Hardrive,
Mr. Review,
ABBA,
Magma,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bronski Beat,
The Toasters,
The Gories,
The Alarm Clocks,
In Retrospect,
Television Personalities,
Andrew Hill,
Marmalade,
Deadbeat,
Barbara Tucker,
Albert Ayler,
Slick Rick,
Gang Starr,
The Detroit Cobras,
Japan, Japan, Japan, Japan.
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.