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 Bahrain and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 clarinet 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 Bob Dylan to the disco 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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minor Threat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scott Walker,
Bobby Womack,
Kevin Saunderson,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Mission of Burma,
Kerrie Biddell,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Fatback Band,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Laurel Aitken,
Khruangbin,
Ponytail,
X-102,
Scrapy,
Bizarre Inc.,
Jesper Dahlback,
Johnny Osbourne,
Mantronix,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Fela Kuti,
DJ Style,
the Germs,
Mad Mike,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Yusef Lateef,
Fad Gadget,
Joey Negro,
Royal Trux,
the Soft Cell,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Eden Ahbez,
Rufus Thomas,
Charles Mingus,
Sällskapet,
Sun Ra,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sex Pistols,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Detroit Cobras,
Lalann,
The New Christs,
The Star Department,
Judy Mowatt,
The Fuzztones,
Country Teasers,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Wings,
Amon Düül,
Ultimate Spinach,
Dead Boys,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Jawbox,
Animal Collective,
DNA,
Make Up,
Faust,
Wolf Eyes,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bauhaus,
Ronan,
Electric Prunes,
The Flesh Eaters,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.