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 Mauritania and from Delhi.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 oboe 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Black Dice. All the underground hits.
All Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moody Blues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Danielle Patucci 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?
Sex Pistols,
Altered Images,
Erasure,
The Grass Roots,
Amazonics,
Radiopuhelimet,
MDC,
Rakim,
Laurel Aitken,
Sandy B,
Can,
Tears for Fears,
Joyce Sims,
Throbbing Gristle,
Index,
Silicon Teens,
Main Source,
Thee Headcoats,
The Associates,
Todd Terry,
Gang of Four,
Robert Wyatt,
Spandau Ballet,
Niagra,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Japan,
Marcia Griffiths,
James White and The Blacks,
Warren Ellis,
The Fugs,
The Wake,
Marine Girls,
Sun Ra,
The Dead C,
KRS-One,
the Swans,
The Cowsills,
Guru Guru,
The Offenders,
Soft Machine,
The Last Poets,
Outsiders,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Liliput,
Marshall Jefferson,
Minutemen,
Adolescents,
Public Image Ltd.,
Eddi Front,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Livin' Joy,
Rufus Thomas,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Litter,
The Raincoats,
Pere Ubu,
the Bar-Kays,
Jeff Lynne,
Pole,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.