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 Kosovo and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 T. Rex to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 48th St. Collective. All the underground hits.
All Popol Vuh tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Buzzcocks 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Flipper,
Maleditus Sound,
Brass Construction,
Electric Prunes,
Pussy Galore,
Traffic Nightmare,
Wally Richardson,
Con Funk Shun,
Quando Quango,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bang On A Can,
JFA,
T.S.O.L.,
Hashim,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Royal Trux,
Angry Samoans,
Althea and Donna,
Patti Smith,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Inner City,
the Bar-Kays,
The Five Americans,
Dawn Penn,
Dark Day,
Jeff Mills,
Niagra,
F. McDonald,
Television Personalities,
Andrew Hill,
The Move,
James White and The Blacks,
Sonic Youth,
8 Eyed Spy,
Peter & Gordon,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Scrapy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gong,
E-Dancer,
The Durutti Column,
Joyce Sims,
Shoche,
Theoretical Girls,
Nik Kershaw,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Moody Blues,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lou Reed,
Altered Images,
Zapp,
Boogie Down Productions,
Funky Four + One,
Underground Resistance,
Avey Tare,
Rotary Connection, Rotary Connection, Rotary Connection, Rotary Connection.
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.