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 Malaysia and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Los Fastidios to the punk 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs. All the underground hits.
All Lalo Schifrin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Be Bop Deluxe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a June Days record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quantec,
Gichy Dan,
Ludus,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Sonics,
The Dirtbombs,
The Fugs,
Barclay James Harvest,
John Foxx,
The Golliwogs,
Crispy Ambulance,
Joey Negro,
The Selecter,
Bang On A Can,
the Germs,
Marmalade,
Wally Richardson,
The Last Poets,
David Axelrod,
The Trojans,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ken Boothe,
The Busters,
Vladislav Delay,
Swans,
Lakeside,
Sarah Menescal,
Au Pairs,
The Blues Magoos,
Flipper,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Fluxion,
Intrusion,
Max Romeo,
Saccharine Trust,
Con Funk Shun,
Donny Hathaway,
Neil Young,
Ponytail,
Procol Harum,
Anakelly,
The Black Dice,
Cluster,
EPMD,
Funkadelic,
The Index,
Franke,
The Skatalites,
The Modern Lovers,
The New Christs,
The Grass Roots,
Wire,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The United States of America,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Make Up,
The Stooges,
The Real Kids,
Aural Exciters,
Lindisfarne,
Trumans Water,
Interpol,
Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk.
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.