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 Saudi Arabia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the sitar 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 Groovy Waters to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Johnny Clarke. All the underground hits.
All Niagra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siglo XX record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
Scott Walker,
Hasil Adkins,
Ossler,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Oneida,
ABC,
Suicide,
Fear,
Soul Sonic Force,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Cluster,
Desert Stars,
The Velvet Underground,
Wally Richardson,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Stooges,
Rufus Thomas,
Camouflage,
Neu!,
Wolf Eyes,
Icehouse,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Walker Brothers,
Glambeats Corp.,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Flamin' Groovies,
Little Man,
The Saints,
Terrestrial Tones,
Delta 5,
Thee Headcoats,
The Index,
Eurythmics,
Ken Boothe,
Donald Byrd,
Amon Düül,
New York Dolls,
Eve St. Jones,
Mission of Burma,
Amazonics,
Man Eating Sloth,
Nico,
Kool Moe Dee,
Rosa Yemen,
Spoonie Gee,
Aural Exciters,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Barrington Levy,
Flipper,
Vainqueur,
June of 44,
The Misunderstood,
Accadde A,
Barry Ungar,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bluetip,
The Barracudas,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.