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 Panama and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Michael McDonald 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 Cymande to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lee Hazlewood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Cabaret Voltaire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Radiopuhelimet,
Wire,
The Human League,
Jimmy McGriff,
Aaron Thompson,
Monks,
Michelle Simonal,
Archie Shepp,
Nils Olav,
Boredoms,
Bauhaus,
Josef K,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Kayak,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Sonics,
Godley & Creme,
The Slits,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Golliwogs,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Erykah Badu,
Brothers Johnson,
Jesper Dahlback,
Quadrant,
The Velvet Underground,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Terrestrial Tones,
Popol Vuh,
Skriet,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
T. Rex,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Fortunes,
Duran Duran,
Frankie Knuckles,
Scientists,
Spandau Ballet,
Warsaw,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sun City Girls,
Stetsasonic,
Barclay James Harvest,
June of 44,
Pere Ubu,
The Grass Roots,
Eric Copeland,
Siglo XX,
Alphaville,
Piero Umiliani,
Sister Nancy,
Marshall Jefferson,
Prince Buster,
48th St. Collective,
Thee Headcoats,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Tommy Roe,
Main Source, Main Source, Main Source, Main Source.
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.