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 Angola and from Mumbai.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Eyeless In Gaza to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All The Birthday Party tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Basic Channel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Section 25,
Mo-Dettes,
Desert Stars,
Terrestrial Tones,
Monolake,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Alice Coltrane,
Surgeon,
Suburban Knight,
Excepter,
Sun Ra,
Soft Machine,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Cal Tjader,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Residents,
Arab on Radar,
Ponytail,
The Birthday Party,
Nation of Ulysses,
Anthony Braxton,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Half Japanese,
Gerry Rafferty,
Nick Fraelich,
Sällskapet,
The Invisible,
Junior Murvin,
The Knickerbockers,
Alton Ellis,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Subhumans,
Ken Boothe,
Underground Resistance,
Dead Boys,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Kaleidoscope,
the Swans,
ABC,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Jesper Dahlback,
Blancmange,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Parry Music,
Theoretical Girls,
Motorama,
Susan Cadogan,
Hardrive,
The J.B.'s,
The Motions,
Rekid,
DNA,
Yusef Lateef,
Soul II Soul,
Jerry's Kids,
The Searchers,
The Doors,
Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano.
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.