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 Portugal and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 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 Brick to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Offenders. All the underground hits.
All Ultramagnetic MC's tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tim Buckley record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 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 Stiv Bators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sex Pistols,
10cc,
Smog,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Minutemen,
Grey Daturas,
New York Dolls,
Swans,
Black Bananas,
the Human League,
Crash Course in Science,
The Golliwogs,
The Detroit Cobras,
Johnny Clarke,
Colin Newman,
The Stooges,
Nirvana,
Charles Mingus,
The Music Machine,
Can,
Agitation Free,
Chrome,
Nation of Ulysses,
Yaz,
Second Layer,
Kas Product,
Make Up,
Radio Birdman,
Rites of Spring,
Scion,
Aswad,
Excepter,
Shuggie Otis,
Amazonics,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Red Krayola,
The Monks,
The Evens,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Dennis Brown,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Scott Walker,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
K-Klass,
Deadbeat,
Ice-T,
T. Rex,
Kerri Chandler,
Hashim,
John Holt,
Schoolly D,
Cheater Slicks,
Harpers Bizarre,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots.
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.