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 South Africa and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 harpsichord 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 Alison Limerick to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Schoolly D. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Five Americans,
Eric B and Rakim,
Dorothy Ashby,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
June of 44,
Rod Modell,
Mo-Dettes,
The Saints,
Idris Muhammad,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Grauzone,
the Soft Cell,
Flamin' Groovies,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Brass Construction,
Bobby Womack,
Fluxion,
Procol Harum,
Sparks,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Moby Grape,
Tim Buckley,
The Music Machine,
Sugar Minott,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
H. Thieme,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Crime,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Make Up,
Peter & Gordon,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Nico,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Jeff Lynne,
John Lydon,
Toni Rubio,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Oblivians,
LL Cool J,
Moss Icon,
Sam Rivers,
Au Pairs,
The Toasters,
Matthew Bourne,
Sonic Youth,
Deadbeat,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Oneida,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rosa Yemen,
Kayak,
Warren Ellis,
Scrapy,
Pantaleimon,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Thee Headcoats,
The Leaves,
Los Fastidios,
Kaleidoscope,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
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.