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 Oman and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Holger Czukay 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 The Misunderstood to the crunk 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 the Human League. All the underground hits.
All The Real Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fire Engines 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Terry Callier,
D'Angelo,
Panda Bear,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Tremeloes,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Pet Shop Boys,
Public Image Ltd.,
Davy DMX,
Letta Mbulu,
Skriet,
Marcia Griffiths,
ABBA,
Skarface,
Buzzcocks,
Zapp,
Eyeless In Gaza,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Motorama,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Can,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Smog,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Moby Grape,
Harry Pussy,
Brick,
Rites of Spring,
The Cowsills,
Marvin Gaye,
Lalo Schifrin,
Brass Construction,
Bootsy Collins,
The Star Department,
Lakeside,
Dark Day,
Clear Light,
Zero Boys,
Rapeman,
Tommy Roe,
The Real Kids,
Max Romeo,
Gang Green,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Gun Club,
Shoche,
Scion,
Tom Boy,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Cheater Slicks,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Tres Demented,
Wire,
Minny Pops,
Sight & Sound,
The Smiths,
Radiopuhelimet,
Soft Cell,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks.
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.