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 Georgia and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 mellotron 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 Pretty Things to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Max Romeo. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum 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 Detroit Cobras,
Deadbeat,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Grauzone,
Hashim,
Magma,
Desert Stars,
Easy Going,
Buzzcocks,
The Blackbyrds,
Moebius,
The New Christs,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Gichy Dan,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Sound Behaviour,
Magazine,
Ultra Naté,
Black Pus,
Henry Cow,
Black Bananas,
New York Dolls,
June Days,
Ultravox,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Barrington Levy,
Eve St. Jones,
Bang On A Can,
Arcadia,
Guru Guru,
John Cale,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Young Marble Giants,
Hot Snakes,
Zapp,
Eric Copeland,
Lungfish,
Scientists,
Bobby Sherman,
Index,
Radiohead,
The Last Poets,
Outsiders,
Kaleidoscope,
Heaven 17,
Panda Bear,
The Happenings,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Lyres,
Visage,
The Electric Prunes,
R.M.O.,
Ossler,
Anakelly,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Neil Young,
Flamin' Groovies,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.