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 Equatorial Guinea and from Columbus.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Dark Day to the jazz 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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kenny Larkin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a In Retrospect record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Albert Ayler,
The Durutti Column,
Robert Görl,
Donald Byrd,
Scion,
Sight & Sound,
The J.B.'s,
Saccharine Trust,
Dual Sessions,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Cowsills,
Robert Hood,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pharoah Sanders,
Aaron Thompson,
48th St. Collective,
The Human League,
Scratch Acid,
The Moleskins,
Thee Headcoats,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Blues Magoos,
Juan Atkins,
The Last Poets,
ABBA,
Monolake,
Anthony Braxton,
Oneida,
The Cramps,
Stiv Bators,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Mad Mike,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Japan,
The Slackers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Dorothy Ashby,
Joyce Sims,
Soft Cell,
Deakin,
Y Pants,
Amazonics,
Lower 48,
Curtis Mayfield,
Adolescents,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Stockholm Monsters,
Judy Mowatt,
Pussy Galore,
Hoover,
Inner City,
The Toasters,
The Monks,
Todd Terry,
Lungfish,
The Doobie Brothers,
Spoonie Gee,
Sandy B,
Bang On A Can,
Pole,
Bobby Sherman,
Faust,
Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne.
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.