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 Bangladesh and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang 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 This Heat. All the underground hits.
All Minnie Riperton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gregory Isaacs,
The Offenders,
LL Cool J,
Sällskapet,
Terry Callier,
The Neon Judgement,
The Invisible,
The Slackers,
Jeff Lynne,
The Leaves,
Mark Hollis,
10cc,
In Retrospect,
Dawn Penn,
Howard Jones,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gabor Szabo,
Godley & Creme,
Hashim,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Gun Club,
Radiopuhelimet,
Von Mondo,
Q65,
Alton Ellis,
Cheater Slicks,
Byron Stingily,
Aswad,
Duran Duran,
Scrapy,
The Dead C,
DNA,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Carl Craig,
Maurizio,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Shadows of Knight,
Lebanon Hanover,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ronnie Foster,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Oblivians,
The Knickerbockers,
Black Pus,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Moebius,
The Sound,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Brick,
Harmonia,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Detroit Cobras,
Dead Boys,
X-101,
Interpol,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Harpers Bizarre,
Kas Product,
Johnny Clarke,
Suicide,
Vainqueur,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler.
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.