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 Ethiopia 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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Stooges to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Technova. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Shadows of Knight 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Unwound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nirvana,
Ultimate Spinach,
Young Marble Giants,
Radio Birdman,
Qualms,
Throbbing Gristle,
Mars,
Johnny Osbourne,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Average White Band,
The Electric Prunes,
the Normal,
Pet Shop Boys,
Spoonie Gee,
Dave Gahan,
The Young Rascals,
Minutemen,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Lower 48,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kool Moe Dee,
Marcia Griffiths,
Black Pus,
Little Man,
Chris Corsano,
The Star Department,
Liliput,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Doors,
Mantronix,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fatback Band,
Sister Nancy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Joey Negro,
Dark Day,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Residents,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Deadbeat,
Groovy Waters,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Blake Baxter,
Quantec,
Radiohead,
Desert Stars,
Jimmy McGriff,
Darondo,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Hot Snakes,
Pharoah Sanders,
Shuggie Otis,
Dual Sessions,
Crash Course in Science,
Monks,
Pere Ubu,
Cal Tjader,
Mandrill,
Bluetip,
Neu!,
Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding.
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.