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 Chad and from Calgary.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the güiro 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 Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All Derrick May tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cecil Taylor record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Man Parrish,
Neil Young,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Terry Callier,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Terrestrial Tones,
Suicide,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
James White and The Blacks,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ultimate Spinach,
Shoche,
Wolf Eyes,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Quadrant,
Cybotron,
10cc,
Kaleidoscope,
Barry Ungar,
The Misunderstood,
Malaria!,
The Smiths,
The Dead C,
Dark Day,
New York Dolls,
June of 44,
Josef K,
The Martian,
The Angels of Light,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Joe Smooth,
Massinfluence,
Ralphi Rosario,
Laurel Aitken,
Pagans,
Bad Manners,
Vainqueur,
Gang of Four,
Barrington Levy,
Gregory Isaacs,
Roxy Music,
The Sound,
The Fall,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Don Cherry,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Durutti Column,
Saccharine Trust,
Chrome,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pierre Henry,
Sight & Sound,
Bobby Womack,
Stetsasonic,
KRS-One,
CMW,
Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman.
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.