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 Bolivia and from Edmonton.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Cairo.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the guitar 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 Brick to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quantec 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sarah Menescal,
Jerry's Kids,
Reuben Wilson,
Drive Like Jehu,
Scientists,
Funky Four + One,
Amon Düül II,
Thompson Twins,
Roger Hodgson,
Saccharine Trust,
the Slits,
Sonic Youth,
Moby Grape,
The Victims,
Dawn Penn,
the Swans,
Aural Exciters,
Index,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Grass Roots,
Suicide,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Joyce Sims,
Bluetip,
Sun Ra,
Subhumans,
The Young Rascals,
Sonny Sharrock,
Unrelated Segments,
The Electric Prunes,
Tim Buckley,
U.S. Maple,
Barbara Tucker,
Dual Sessions,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ronnie Foster,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Nick Fraelich,
Bush Tetras,
Black Sheep,
The Saints,
The American Breed,
David Axelrod,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Dirtbombs,
Leonard Cohen,
Tres Demented,
Minnie Riperton,
Second Layer,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bill Wells,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Easy Going,
Rhythm & Sound,
Zero Boys,
Lalann,
Roy Ayers,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.