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 Dominica and from Glasgow.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Mr. Review to the dance 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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All La Düsseldorf tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Maleditus Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Howard Jones,
One Last Wish,
Ken Boothe,
Dead Boys,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Cal Tjader,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Agent Orange,
Bob Dylan,
Byron Stingily,
Gichy Dan,
Rufus Thomas,
Soulsonic Force,
Jerry's Kids,
The Moody Blues,
Intrusion,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Harmonia,
cv313,
Sarah Menescal,
Q65,
Dawn Penn,
Talk Talk,
Clear Light,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gregory Isaacs,
Moebius,
Drive Like Jehu,
Derrick May,
Mad Mike,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Alice Coltrane,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Barbara Tucker,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Monochrome Set,
Archie Shepp,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Index,
Au Pairs,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Buckinghams,
AZ,
The Dave Clark Five,
Radiopuhelimet,
Pierre Henry,
Rekid,
Scott Walker,
Brand Nubian,
Anakelly,
Max Romeo,
Suicide,
Procol Harum,
John Cale,
Quadrant,
MC5,
Scion,
Idris Muhammad,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.