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 East Timor and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Kenny Larkin to the disco 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 The Cowsills. All the underground hits.
All Ajijia Myrayebe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flamin' Groovies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dave Gahan,
The Cramps,
Jimmy McGriff,
Grandmaster Flash,
Eddi Front,
Wings,
Terry Callier,
Masters at Work,
Ralphi Rosario,
Technova,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Gabor Szabo,
Brick,
Sonic Youth,
Echospace,
The Shadows of Knight,
Inner City,
MDC,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Alarm Clocks,
Rotary Connection,
Magazine,
Jacob Miller,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bobby Sherman,
X-101,
Duran Duran,
X-Ray Spex,
Connie Case,
Ituana,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Dead Boys,
ABBA,
Scientists,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kaleidoscope,
The Motions,
The Names,
The Index,
Brand Nubian,
Amon Düül II,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Kerrie Biddell,
Max Romeo,
Dual Sessions,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Moleskins,
Piero Umiliani,
China Crisis,
Sarah Menescal,
B.T. Express,
CMW,
Freddie Wadling,
Guru Guru,
The American Breed,
Basic Channel,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.