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 Djibouti and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 sitar 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 Chris & Cosey to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Fugazi. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ash Ra Tempel 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lower 48 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
Iggy Pop,
The Mummies,
World's Most,
Mandrill,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Doobie Brothers,
Suicide,
F. McDonald,
Young Marble Giants,
Lakeside,
Radio Birdman,
Terrestrial Tones,
Harry Pussy,
Crooked Eye,
The Moleskins,
Alphaville,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Last Poets,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
the Association,
Black Bananas,
Anthony Braxton,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Spandau Ballet,
Can,
Magazine,
The New Christs,
Barrington Levy,
The Red Krayola,
The Residents,
Chrome,
Lindisfarne,
Sandy B,
Al Stewart,
The Victims,
Oblivians,
Goldenarms,
Ituana,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Urselle,
The Techniques,
Man Eating Sloth,
Television Personalities,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Sound,
Quando Quango,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Spoonie Gee,
Duran Duran,
Metal Thangz,
The Vogues,
Gang Starr,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
A Certain Ratio,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band.
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.