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 Austria and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Darondo to the funk 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 Yusef Lateef. All the underground hits.
All Ralphi Rosario tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Busters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blake Baxter,
Vainqueur,
Roger Hodgson,
Babytalk,
Lyres,
Bluetip,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Eric Copeland,
Robert Wyatt,
Lou Christie,
Jandek,
The American Breed,
The Music Machine,
The Monks,
Model 500,
Pole,
Donald Byrd,
Desert Stars,
48th St. Collective,
Slick Rick,
Au Pairs,
Yellowson,
Kaleidoscope,
Q65,
The Slackers,
Organ,
Bobby Womack,
Black Moon,
Danielle Patucci,
Sex Pistols,
Camouflage,
Joe Finger,
The Real Kids,
Graham Central Station,
Motorama,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Joey Negro,
The Slits,
Delon & Dalcan,
Ultravox,
Neil Young,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Residents,
F. McDonald,
The Techniques,
Crispy Ambulance,
Wings,
Bizarre Inc.,
Ossler,
the Association,
The Dave Clark Five,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Terrestrial Tones,
Mission of Burma,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Nas,
Loose Ends,
X-102,
Scott Walker,
Jawbox,
Piero Umiliani,
Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback 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.