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 Mozambique and from Salvador.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Delhi.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Johnny Clarke. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe 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 snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scrapy,
the Association,
Hasil Adkins,
Alphaville,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Velvet Underground,
Bootsy Collins,
Erasure,
Shuggie Otis,
Robert Görl,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Inner City,
48th St. Collective,
The Doors,
Connie Case,
Intrusion,
Sun Ra,
H. Thieme,
Moby Grape,
Sandy B,
Gang Green,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kaleidoscope,
Public Enemy,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Mars,
Bobby Sherman,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Gil Scott Heron,
Cal Tjader,
Rapeman,
Angry Samoans,
Oblivians,
Wally Richardson,
Gerry Rafferty,
Mission of Burma,
The Sound,
Eric Dolphy,
The Angels of Light,
Blancmange,
The Gun Club,
Deadbeat,
R.M.O.,
The Fall,
Amon Düül,
Fear,
Lou Reed,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Arcadia,
John Holt,
John Coltrane,
New York Dolls,
The Moody Blues,
Cymande,
Aural Exciters,
Man Eating Sloth,
Carl Craig,
Judy Mowatt,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Rosa Yemen,
Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead.
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.