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 Armenia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Von Mondo. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thompson Twins,
Mandrill,
Electric Prunes,
Stockholm Monsters,
Matthew Bourne,
Sunsets and Hearts,
John Holt,
Sixth Finger,
Magazine,
Infiniti,
Reuben Wilson,
Qualms,
Ossler,
Cameo,
Aloha Tigers,
Bootsy Collins,
Brick,
The Mojo Men,
Spandau Ballet,
Kurtis Blow,
Peter & Gordon,
Lower 48,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Maleditus Sound,
Peter and Kerry,
Danielle Patucci,
Kas Product,
Yaz,
Ken Boothe,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Basic Channel,
Ralphi Rosario,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Panda Bear,
Soulsonic Force,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Talk Talk,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Flesh Eaters,
Flash Fearless,
The Alarm Clocks,
Hasil Adkins,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Associates,
World's Most,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Jandek,
Echospace,
Metal Thangz,
The Techniques,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Jeff Mills,
In Retrospect,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Soft Cell,
Amon Düül II,
Bush Tetras,
Roy Ayers,
The Golliwogs,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.