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 Dominican Republic and from Cairo.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 arpeggiator 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 John Lydon to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sun Ra Arkestra. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anthony Braxton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric Copeland,
Accadde A,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Malaria!,
The Electric Prunes,
Fela Kuti,
Alice Coltrane,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Icehouse,
The Victims,
Shoche,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Residents,
Pierre Henry,
Sällskapet,
Robert Görl,
Joy Division,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Flamin' Groovies,
Supertramp,
Pussy Galore,
The Misunderstood,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Monks,
Moss Icon,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Swell Maps,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Y Pants,
PIL,
Aural Exciters,
Pantytec,
Tres Demented,
The Blackbyrds,
Darondo,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Angry Samoans,
Duran Duran,
The Pretty Things,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Jeff Lynne,
The Kinks,
the Germs,
Todd Terry,
Joey Negro,
the Sonics,
DJ Style,
Alphaville,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Selecter,
Nas,
Reagan Youth,
The Angels of Light,
David McCallum,
Morten Harket,
Peter & Gordon,
The Move,
The Cramps,
Cecil Taylor,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Velvet Underground,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.