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 Haiti and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 oboe 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 MDC to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Moleskins. All the underground hits.
All LL Cool J tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Circle Jerks,
D'Angelo,
Au Pairs,
Sällskapet,
OOIOO,
Symarip,
The Residents,
Piero Umiliani,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Young Rascals,
The Fugs,
Mo-Dettes,
48th St. Collective,
ABBA,
John Foxx,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Hardrive,
Kaleidoscope,
Suicide,
The Smoke,
The Pretty Things,
Monks,
The Velvet Underground,
Ralphi Rosario,
Skaos,
Black Sheep,
Roxy Music,
Eddi Front,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Popol Vuh,
Mad Mike,
The Knickerbockers,
Minor Threat,
Colin Newman,
Andrew Hill,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Maurizio,
Cal Tjader,
Blossom Toes,
Gang Starr,
Reuben Wilson,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The American Breed,
The Cramps,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Janne Schatter,
Dawn Penn,
Brick,
The Trojans,
Scott Walker,
Patti Smith,
Essential Logic,
The Doobie Brothers,
Soul Sonic Force,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Icehouse,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lyres,
Ituana,
The Shadows of Knight,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Faraquet,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.