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 Cuba and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 Winnipeg and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Groovy Waters to the electroclash 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 Gabor Szabo. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amon Düül II record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Eddi Front,
Cluster,
Con Funk Shun,
Khruangbin,
Goldenarms,
Unrelated Segments,
Mo-Dettes,
The Monks,
The Misunderstood,
Ash Ra Tempel,
June Days,
The Red Krayola,
E-Dancer,
The Blues Magoos,
The Buckinghams,
Marc Almond,
Morten Harket,
Aaron Thompson,
Judy Mowatt,
The Gun Club,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Black Bananas,
Lee Hazlewood,
Todd Rundgren,
Grauzone,
Outsiders,
Scion,
Archie Shepp,
Darondo,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pagans,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Angry Samoans,
Unwound,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
In Retrospect,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Throbbing Gristle,
Thompson Twins,
Gang of Four,
Stetsasonic,
Parry Music,
The Flesh Eaters,
Crime,
Trumans Water,
Yaz,
Scott Walker,
Guru Guru,
The Music Machine,
Whodini,
Byron Stingily,
Ultravox,
The Searchers,
Yusef Lateef,
Tres Demented,
The Human League,
Rosa Yemen,
Banda Bassotti,
cv313,
Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey.
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.