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 Tonga and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 David Bowie 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 AZ to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All Max Romeo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mantronix 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Enemy,
Harry Pussy,
Dark Day,
Kerrie Biddell,
Aloha Tigers,
CMW,
Harpers Bizarre,
Scientists,
Fat Boys,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Adolescents,
Piero Umiliani,
Dead Boys,
Black Sheep,
the Soft Cell,
Bill Wells,
Bush Tetras,
Lou Christie,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Happenings,
Heaven 17,
The Detroit Cobras,
EPMD,
Suburban Knight,
New Age Steppers,
Connie Case,
Section 25,
Eddi Front,
Gregory Isaacs,
Avey Tare,
June Days,
World's Most,
Talk Talk,
Pantytec,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Kerri Chandler,
Man Parrish,
Darondo,
The Cowsills,
Lebanon Hanover,
Qualms,
Joy Division,
8 Eyed Spy,
Q and Not U,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Human League,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Scratch Acid,
Faraquet,
Reuben Wilson,
Yusef Lateef,
Big Daddy Kane,
Eli Mardock,
James White and The Blacks,
Pantaleimon,
John Coltrane,
Ludus,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.