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 Pakistan and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 David Bowie 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 The Last Poets to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Trojans. All the underground hits.
All Funkadelic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lucky Dragons record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neil Young & Crazy Horse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers,
Sexual Harrassment,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Remains,
The Busters,
Y Pants,
John Cale,
The Slits,
Idris Muhammad,
Spoonie Gee,
Sun Ra,
The Invisible,
Gong,
The Dirtbombs,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Freddie Wadling,
Junior Murvin,
Clear Light,
Donny Hathaway,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Juan Atkins,
Young Marble Giants,
Desert Stars,
In Retrospect,
Rosa Yemen,
Tommy Roe,
Wally Richardson,
Drive Like Jehu,
Minny Pops,
The Wake,
Man Eating Sloth,
Eden Ahbez,
The Fall,
Infiniti,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Fire Engines,
DJ Style,
Zapp,
Camouflage,
Neu!,
Masters at Work,
John Lydon,
The Barracudas,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Susan Cadogan,
Anthony Braxton,
Basic Channel,
Khruangbin,
Oneida,
cv313,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Crispy Ambulance,
David Axelrod,
Main Source,
Rufus Thomas,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Minutemen,
The Searchers,
Talk Talk,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Surgeon,
AZ,
Ice-T,
Alice Coltrane,
Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound.
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.