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 Equatorial Guinea and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Cosmic Jokers. All the underground hits.
All Joey Negro tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Newcleus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a AZ record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
LL Cool J,
the Bar-Kays,
Oneida,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Soft Machine,
Arab on Radar,
Make Up,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Motions,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Yellowson,
Darondo,
Sun Ra,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Charles Mingus,
The Leaves,
The American Breed,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Leonard Cohen,
Jeff Lynne,
The Knickerbockers,
D'Angelo,
The J.B.'s,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kool Moe Dee,
L. Decosne,
T.S.O.L.,
Barclay James Harvest,
Matthew Halsall,
The Count Five,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Patti Smith,
Suburban Knight,
Bush Tetras,
Schoolly D,
Severed Heads,
Heaven 17,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Don Cherry,
Ituana,
The Black Dice,
Brand Nubian,
Pole,
Ponytail,
Robert Görl,
Soul II Soul,
Thee Headcoats,
KRS-One,
June of 44,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Pop Group,
Gong,
The Moleskins,
Yaz,
The Mummies,
Todd Terry,
June Days,
Moby Grape,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren.
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.