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 Latvia and from Sao Paulo.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Count Five to the techno 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 Parry Music. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tom Boy 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Justin Hinds & The Dominoes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sparks,
the Human League,
Dorothy Ashby,
Delta 5,
Throbbing Gristle,
Massinfluence,
Negative Approach,
FM Einheit,
The Monochrome Set,
Basic Channel,
The Saints,
Rites of Spring,
The Buckinghams,
Gil Scott Heron,
New Order,
Matthew Bourne,
Juan Atkins,
Lebanon Hanover,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Victims,
Underground Resistance,
Ludus,
The Gap Band,
The Last Poets,
Deepchord,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lindisfarne,
The Sound,
Supertramp,
Barry Ungar,
Roy Ayers,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Black Bananas,
The Doors,
Dennis Brown,
Cecil Taylor,
Youth Brigade,
The Litter,
Joey Negro,
The Index,
Colin Newman,
Mars,
Wally Richardson,
Bootsy Collins,
Mandrill,
the Normal,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Reuben Wilson,
the Slits,
Heaven 17,
Intrusion,
Los Fastidios,
Animal Collective,
Minutemen,
Jesper Dahlback,
Country Teasers,
The Gun Club,
Sun Ra,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Tomorrow,
Mr. Review,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels.
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.