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 Nauru and from Houston.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Minny Pops to the rock 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
Nas,
Harmonia,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Agent Orange,
the Bar-Kays,
Duran Duran,
Flash Fearless,
Sonny Sharrock,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sex Pistols,
Radiohead,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bush Tetras,
Pussy Galore,
Gil Scott Heron,
ABC,
The Doobie Brothers,
FM Einheit,
The Electric Prunes,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lebanon Hanover,
Lalo Schifrin,
Drive Like Jehu,
Camberwell Now,
Ultimate Spinach,
Todd Terry,
Jeff Lynne,
Parry Music,
The Star Department,
Colin Newman,
Reuben Wilson,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Fear,
The Blues Magoos,
Deepchord,
Mary Jane Girls,
Dorothy Ashby,
Second Layer,
Urselle,
Yaz,
Ohio Players,
Brick,
Terry Callier,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Saccharine Trust,
Con Funk Shun,
Hot Snakes,
Pole,
Jeff Mills,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Dirtbombs,
World's Most,
Scion,
Andrew Hill,
Jawbox,
The Remains,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Arcadia,
Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio.
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.