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 Malta and from Johannesburg.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Barrington Levy 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 Average White Band. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers Ubiquity 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oblivians,
Jacques Brel,
The Invisible,
The Standells,
Robert Görl,
Yellowson,
KRS-One,
Nation of Ulysses,
X-101,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
K-Klass,
Radio Birdman,
Sixth Finger,
Suburban Knight,
Lyres,
Mark Hollis,
Amazonics,
Inner City,
the Human League,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Arthur Verocai,
F. McDonald,
Ash Ra Tempel,
kango's stein massive,
The Smoke,
Joey Negro,
Crooked Eye,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Kas Product,
Lucky Dragons,
Tres Demented,
Pantytec,
Peter & Gordon,
Trumans Water,
Gregory Isaacs,
Heaven 17,
The Selecter,
Alphaville,
The Pop Group,
The Remains,
Marcia Griffiths,
Joe Finger,
Can,
Basic Channel,
Warsaw,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Au Pairs,
D'Angelo,
World's Most,
Con Funk Shun,
Magazine,
Little Man,
Niagra,
Sällskapet,
Vainqueur,
John Coltrane,
Dennis Brown,
Zero Boys,
The Moody Blues,
the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars.
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.