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 Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 Calgary and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Grauzone to the funk 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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All Ralphi Rosario tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Albert Ayler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
H. Thieme,
D'Angelo,
Unwound,
Outsiders,
Flamin' Groovies,
Kerrie Biddell,
Pussy Galore,
The New Christs,
Cecil Taylor,
L. Decosne,
Monolake,
Jerry's Kids,
Country Teasers,
Minny Pops,
The Barracudas,
Ultravox,
Matthew Halsall,
Lower 48,
Crooked Eye,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Derrick May,
Susan Cadogan,
Tomorrow,
Man Parrish,
Sixth Finger,
Morten Harket,
The Raincoats,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Kerri Chandler,
Blossom Toes,
The Move,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Eve St. Jones,
Maurizio,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
It's A Beautiful Day,
the Swans,
Cameo,
Harpers Bizarre,
Deadbeat,
The Standells,
Kaleidoscope,
Donny Hathaway,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Scratch Acid,
Monks,
Gabor Szabo,
Rakim,
Joy Division,
Simply Red,
Banda Bassotti,
Byron Stingily,
Crash Course in Science,
Sparks,
Lungfish,
Masters at Work,
The Pretty Things,
Infiniti,
The Blackbyrds,
Adolescents,
Inner City,
Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton.
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.