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 Iraq and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 güiro 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 The Doobie Brothers to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Deakin. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Teasers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pole,
Pet Shop Boys,
Josef K,
The Five Americans,
Dawn Penn,
Quadrant,
Barry Ungar,
The Knickerbockers,
Desert Stars,
Rosa Yemen,
Joey Negro,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Monks,
Nirvana,
Liliput,
Lee Hazlewood,
Camouflage,
Bill Wells,
U.S. Maple,
Ohio Players,
Outsiders,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Pantytec,
X-102,
Faraquet,
The Velvet Underground,
Davy DMX,
Amazonics,
Laurel Aitken,
T. Rex,
Iggy Pop,
Half Japanese,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bang On A Can,
Jimmy McGriff,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
JFA,
Soulsonic Force,
John Holt,
a-ha,
Glambeats Corp.,
One Last Wish,
Gang Starr,
The Golliwogs,
The Sound,
Silicon Teens,
Lalann,
Sex Pistols,
Susan Cadogan,
Roxette,
Scientists,
cv313,
A Certain Ratio,
Kurtis Blow,
the Slits,
The Neon Judgement,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
ABBA,
The Leaves,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk.
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.