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 Gambia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 clarinet 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 Throbbing Gristle to the disco 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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All Terror Squad Feat. Camron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
Dead Boys,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Sister Nancy,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Neil Young,
The Dirtbombs,
Kerrie Biddell,
Skarface,
Pantaleimon,
The Moleskins,
Nico,
Harpers Bizarre,
Eddi Front,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Barrington Levy,
Moebius,
Motorama,
Sight & Sound,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
La Düsseldorf,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Black Dice,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Jawbox,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Soul II Soul,
June Days,
Gastr Del Sol,
Dennis Brown,
Frankie Knuckles,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Pierre Henry,
Ralphi Rosario,
Man Parrish,
Erasure,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Shoche,
The Count Five,
Fatback Band,
Boogie Down Productions,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Barracudas,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Heaven 17,
Harmonia,
Ten City,
T. Rex,
Black Bananas,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Golliwogs,
Gong,
The Misunderstood,
Technova,
Public Image Ltd.,
Severed Heads,
Suicide,
Outsiders,
The Monks,
The Slackers,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.