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 Guinea-Bissau and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 theremin 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 Kaleidoscope to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Mo-Dettes. All the underground hits.
All Gary Puckett & The Union Gap tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Severed Heads record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an oboe 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 sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron 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 Misunderstood,
Malaria!,
Alphaville,
Supertramp,
X-102,
Pulsallama,
Tom Boy,
Eve St. Jones,
The J.B.'s,
Q65,
Glambeats Corp.,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Jacques Brel,
a-ha,
Bush Tetras,
Derrick May,
the Fania All-Stars,
Outsiders,
Silicon Teens,
Reuben Wilson,
Suicide,
Idris Muhammad,
Gong,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Maleditus Sound,
Yellowson,
Prince Buster,
June of 44,
Simply Red,
Can,
DJ Sneak,
Rekid,
Pharoah Sanders,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sonny Sharrock,
Throbbing Gristle,
Jawbox,
Oblivians,
Nils Olav,
Electric Prunes,
Bauhaus,
Zapp,
Charles Mingus,
Echospace,
Au Pairs,
Howard Jones,
Kool Moe Dee,
John Foxx,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Jeff Mills,
Albert Ayler,
Average White Band,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Radiohead,
The Wake,
Brass Construction,
Liliput,
Royal Trux,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers.
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.