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 Cambodia and from Copenhagen.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare 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 Seeds to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band. All the underground hits.
All Drexciya tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Negative Approach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Severed Heads,
The Index,
The Doors,
Glenn Branca,
Banda Bassotti,
Flipper,
The Invisible,
Barbara Tucker,
Hashim,
Buzzcocks,
Underground Resistance,
Fat Boys,
Make Up,
Mr. Review,
Wasted Youth,
Erasure,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Kas Product,
The Motions,
Average White Band,
Mandrill,
Altered Images,
Quando Quango,
Stiv Bators,
Pole,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bob Dylan,
Quadrant,
Eddi Front,
Yazoo,
Sarah Menescal,
Massinfluence,
The Gun Club,
The Busters,
The Sonics,
Don Cherry,
Nation of Ulysses,
Wolf Eyes,
The Beau Brummels,
The Litter,
Tim Buckley,
The Skatalites,
Technova,
Jeff Mills,
Swell Maps,
Urselle,
The Fire Engines,
The Techniques,
Black Flag,
Drive Like Jehu,
D'Angelo,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Aloha Tigers,
Scrapy,
Neil Young,
Yellowson,
Jacob Miller,
Marc Almond,
Cluster,
The Tremeloes,
Ralphi Rosario, Ralphi Rosario, Ralphi Rosario, Ralphi Rosario.
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.