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 Belarus and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids 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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All kango's stein massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moebius record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
The Tremeloes,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Crime,
Byron Stingily,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bush Tetras,
One Last Wish,
Subhumans,
The Blackbyrds,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Slick Rick,
The Beau Brummels,
Parry Music,
the Bar-Kays,
The Raincoats,
Brothers Johnson,
Boz Scaggs,
The Grass Roots,
Rites of Spring,
Jawbox,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
L. Decosne,
Stockholm Monsters,
Steve Hackett,
the Germs,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Reagan Youth,
MDC,
The Names,
Frankie Knuckles,
Chris & Cosey,
Minor Threat,
Sister Nancy,
The Dirtbombs,
Jandek,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Idris Muhammad,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Rapeman,
T.S.O.L.,
Hasil Adkins,
Cybotron,
Magma,
Soulsonic Force,
Tears for Fears,
Mandrill,
Whodini,
Juan Atkins,
Swell Maps,
Panda Bear,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Skriet,
Brick,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Intrusion,
Lakeside,
Rakim,
Schoolly D,
Drive Like Jehu,
Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler.
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.