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 Russia and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Funkadelic to the funk 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 Robert Görl. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bizarre Inc.,
Los Fastidios,
Popol Vuh,
DNA,
Jacob Miller,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Toasters,
Gang Starr,
Echospace,
Sandy B,
The Cramps,
the Bar-Kays,
Rod Modell,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Red Krayola,
Anakelly,
The Modern Lovers,
The Electric Prunes,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Unwound,
Robert Görl,
Hashim,
B.T. Express,
Connie Case,
Chrome,
Malaria!,
Lalann,
The Birthday Party,
Groovy Waters,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Count Five,
Pulsallama,
Bill Near,
The Misunderstood,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Tommy Roe,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Pagans,
The Cowsills,
Al Stewart,
Rakim,
Ohio Players,
Nils Olav,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Detroit Cobras,
Albert Ayler,
New York Dolls,
Skriet,
The Cure,
Tim Buckley,
The Seeds,
The Offenders,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Tom Boy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Scrapy,
One Last Wish,
Juan Atkins,
Zapp, Zapp, Zapp, Zapp.
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.