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 Tunisia and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 oboe 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 Infiniti to the jazz 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 Jeff Mills. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Infiniti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
AZ,
Todd Terry,
The Wake,
L. Decosne,
Sonic Youth,
Boogie Down Productions,
Jimmy McGriff,
Simply Red,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Porter Ricks,
Cymande,
Roy Ayers,
A Certain Ratio,
Joy Division,
Blake Baxter,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
KRS-One,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
David Bowie,
The Motions,
June of 44,
Lower 48,
Byron Stingily,
Scratch Acid,
Eli Mardock,
cv313,
Zero Boys,
Cameo,
One Last Wish,
The Fire Engines,
Easy Going,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sister Nancy,
Bobby Sherman,
Kas Product,
Malaria!,
Deakin,
The Offenders,
Faust,
Sonny Sharrock,
Monks,
Reuben Wilson,
Fad Gadget,
The Gap Band,
Crash Course in Science,
Little Man,
Ituana,
Thee Headcoats,
Faraquet,
Amazonics,
Tommy Roe,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Visage,
Brand Nubian,
Quando Quango,
Bob Dylan,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.