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 Benin and from Accra.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Stockholm.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Brick to the grunge 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 Aaron Thompson. All the underground hits.
All Yazoo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gregory Isaacs,
Rakim,
the Normal,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ultra Naté,
Surgeon,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bobby Womack,
Lou Reed,
Skaos,
The Black Dice,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Wasted Youth,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Kinks,
Derrick Morgan,
Cecil Taylor,
The Seeds,
Accadde A,
The Red Krayola,
Deepchord,
Kerrie Biddell,
Black Moon,
Public Enemy,
Skarface,
Newcleus,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Electric Prunes,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Dead C,
Stereo Dub,
Morten Harket,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sällskapet,
The Tremeloes,
The Motions,
the Association,
Kaleidoscope,
Rotary Connection,
The Litter,
Arab on Radar,
Little Man,
The Dirtbombs,
Echospace,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Suicide,
The Detroit Cobras,
June of 44,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Camouflage,
Amon Düül II,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ultimate Spinach,
Y Pants,
Panda Bear,
KRS-One,
New Age Steppers,
Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images.
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.