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 Italy and from Jakarta.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Big Daddy Kane to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 City Girls. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines 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 guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pulsallama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reagan Youth,
Amazonics,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Gun Club,
K-Klass,
The Seeds,
The Real Kids,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Iggy Pop,
The Knickerbockers,
Janne Schatter,
Zapp,
Cluster,
Pagans,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Blues Magoos,
These Immortal Souls,
The Monochrome Set,
David Axelrod,
Aaron Thompson,
Mandrill,
Dark Day,
The Associates,
Metal Thangz,
Bill Near,
Von Mondo,
Brass Construction,
Black Moon,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Funky Four + One,
Malaria!,
June of 44,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Boogie Down Productions,
Agent Orange,
Depeche Mode,
Donald Byrd,
Juan Atkins,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Davy DMX,
Brick,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Althea and Donna,
Fifty Foot Hose,
the Fania All-Stars,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
the Normal,
Blake Baxter,
One Last Wish,
Monks,
The Music Machine,
Yellowson,
Josef K,
Sällskapet,
Infiniti,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Magazine,
The Martian,
Marine Girls,
Ultravox,
The Electric Prunes,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.