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 Russia and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 sitar 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 Sexual Harrassment to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jawbox record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
World's Most,
The Litter,
Lakeside,
Letta Mbulu,
The Skatalites,
The Gladiators,
John Cale,
The Angels of Light,
Suicide,
Jeff Mills,
Second Layer,
In Retrospect,
Roger Hodgson,
Pere Ubu,
Avey Tare,
The Leaves,
Fad Gadget,
UT,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Intrusion,
Stereo Dub,
Piero Umiliani,
Hot Snakes,
CMW,
Kayak,
Amazonics,
The Fire Engines,
Cybotron,
The Golliwogs,
The New Christs,
Quantec,
The Moody Blues,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Franke,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Crash Course in Science,
Lebanon Hanover,
Crooked Eye,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Sonics,
Depeche Mode,
48th St. Collective,
Malaria!,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gong,
Bill Near,
The Shadows of Knight,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Spandau Ballet,
The Cure,
Nik Kershaw,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Derrick May,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Five Americans,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Liliput,
Gang Gang Dance,
Peter and Kerry,
Amon Düül,
Oblivians,
Deakin,
Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman.
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.