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 Latvia and from Columbus.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Winnipeg.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Larry & the Blue Notes. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Animal Collective 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 sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Nirvana,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Cybotron,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sun Ra,
John Holt,
John Coltrane,
Bill Near,
T. Rex,
Brick,
Eric Copeland,
In Retrospect,
The United States of America,
Marmalade,
Sixth Finger,
OOIOO,
a-ha,
Lucky Dragons,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Jeff Mills,
X-Ray Spex,
Jandek,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Fad Gadget,
The Modern Lovers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Black Moon,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ultra Naté,
Donny Hathaway,
The Young Rascals,
Gastr Del Sol,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Harry Pussy,
Bob Dylan,
Pagans,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Alice Coltrane,
Sex Pistols,
Chris & Cosey,
The Standells,
Swans,
Audionom,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Scrapy,
DJ Sneak,
Wire,
Mr. Review,
Chris Corsano,
Ossler,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Kurtis Blow,
Dennis Brown,
Peter and Kerry,
Hoover,
The Slackers,
Negative Approach,
The Birthday Party,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.