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 Congo and from Madrid.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Mandrill to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pop Group record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Jawbox,
Trumans Water,
U.S. Maple,
Popol Vuh,
Lightning Bolt,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Slave,
Wasted Youth,
Alphaville,
the Fania All-Stars,
Chrome,
Con Funk Shun,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Underground Resistance,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Names,
Jacques Brel,
MDC,
Nirvana,
Harpers Bizarre,
Electric Prunes,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Slackers,
Man Eating Sloth,
Flamin' Groovies,
Supertramp,
John Foxx,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Todd Terry,
Radiohead,
The Martian,
Tomorrow,
Minny Pops,
Darondo,
Mantronix,
Flipper,
Gang Gang Dance,
Graham Central Station,
Mad Mike,
Mission of Burma,
The Associates,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Brand Nubian,
James White and The Blacks,
Sonny Sharrock,
The J.B.'s,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bill Wells,
Johnny Clarke,
Babytalk,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Tres Demented,
The Litter,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
A Certain Ratio,
Sonic Youth,
The Black Dice,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.