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 Benin and from Columbus.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 marimba 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 Spandau Ballet to the dance 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 John Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Crooked Eye,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Music Machine,
Magma,
Faust,
Swans,
Tomorrow,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Dead C,
Aural Exciters,
The Beau Brummels,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Kinks,
DJ Style,
the Association,
Funkadelic,
Rod Modell,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ituana,
Popol Vuh,
Nirvana,
Visage,
Aswad,
10cc,
Jacques Brel,
John Holt,
The Grass Roots,
Wolf Eyes,
Make Up,
the Sonics,
Minor Threat,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Scott Walker,
Nick Fraelich,
Connie Case,
Fluxion,
Shoche,
Pierre Henry,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bizarre Inc.,
Rosa Yemen,
The Durutti Column,
Bush Tetras,
Wasted Youth,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The American Breed,
Crispian St. Peters,
Freddie Wadling,
Pagans,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Stooges,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Model 500,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Agitation Free,
The Velvet Underground,
Stockholm Monsters,
Todd Rundgren,
Skarface,
Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis.
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.