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 Dominican Republic and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the grunge 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shoche 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moss Icon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Massinfluence,
The Monks,
Zero Boys,
Japan,
Bluetip,
The Misunderstood,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Spoonie Gee,
Patti Smith,
Anthony Braxton,
Pantytec,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Althea and Donna,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ludus,
The Alarm Clocks,
the Swans,
Bad Manners,
Unrelated Segments,
Aloha Tigers,
Arcadia,
KRS-One,
The Sound,
the Bar-Kays,
Scott Walker,
Minutemen,
DJ Sneak,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Janne Schatter,
These Immortal Souls,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Section 25,
Todd Rundgren,
Desert Stars,
The Divine Comedy,
Metal Thangz,
The Motions,
Intrusion,
Joey Negro,
Sun City Girls,
Alphaville,
AZ,
Jeru the Damaja,
Kool Moe Dee,
Derrick Morgan,
Cameo,
Neil Young,
Freddie Wadling,
John Lydon,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Minny Pops,
Warsaw,
Bill Near,
Qualms,
Jawbox,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ossler,
The Slackers,
Sarah Menescal,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.