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 Nicaragua and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Johannesburg.
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 oboe 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 Bang On A Can to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Gun Club. All the underground hits.
All The Knickerbockers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aaron Thompson 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
The Litter,
Smog,
U.S. Maple,
K-Klass,
Q and Not U,
Jacob Miller,
Terry Callier,
Fat Boys,
Bill Wells,
Outsiders,
Derrick Morgan,
Second Layer,
The Sonics,
Fear,
Maleditus Sound,
The Pretty Things,
Davy DMX,
One Last Wish,
the Fania All-Stars,
Joey Negro,
Amon Düül,
The Monks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Kinks,
Matthew Halsall,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Charles Mingus,
Thee Headcoats,
Skaos,
Neu!,
Jeff Mills,
Parry Music,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Vogues,
Suburban Knight,
Graham Central Station,
Quantec,
Joensuu 1685,
Pantytec,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Fortunes,
Cheater Slicks,
Yaz,
Pole,
Magazine,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sparks,
Laurel Aitken,
the Sonics,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Saints,
Connie Case,
John Lydon,
Thompson Twins,
Erykah Badu,
Rakim,
Tom Boy,
X-102,
Mars,
Procol Harum,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.