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 Macedonia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Fear to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Electric Prunes,
Rod Modell,
Silicon Teens,
Goldenarms,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Smoke,
Public Image Ltd.,
Wally Richardson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Soft Cell,
The J.B.'s,
La Düsseldorf,
Andrew Hill,
Jandek,
The Gories,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bobby Hutcherson,
MC5,
Pantytec,
Inner City,
U.S. Maple,
Malaria!,
Peter and Kerry,
Glambeats Corp.,
Tim Buckley,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Yazoo,
the Sonics,
Underground Resistance,
The Sound,
Oblivians,
the Germs,
World's Most,
Sandy B,
DJ Style,
Alphaville,
Jerry's Kids,
Tomorrow,
Scion,
Letta Mbulu,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
China Crisis,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sparks,
Mad Mike,
Black Bananas,
Faust,
Al Stewart,
Negative Approach,
The Kinks,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lee Hazlewood,
Ice-T,
The Blues Magoos,
Unrelated Segments,
The Skatalites,
JFA,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Zeros,
Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance.
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.