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 Venezuela and from Stockholm.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Fuzztones to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Morten Harket. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Happenings 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Saccharine Trust,
Junior Murvin,
Wolf Eyes,
David Bowie,
Banda Bassotti,
Infiniti,
Fad Gadget,
Angry Samoans,
Harry Pussy,
Slave,
Cymande,
Aloha Tigers,
Dave Gahan,
Average White Band,
John Lydon,
Roy Ayers,
The Golliwogs,
Kerri Chandler,
Fear,
Anakelly,
Rotary Connection,
Siglo XX,
Electric Prunes,
Eve St. Jones,
Bobby Byrd,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Boz Scaggs,
Nik Kershaw,
Crash Course in Science,
Theoretical Girls,
Los Fastidios,
Lalo Schifrin,
Radio Birdman,
Spandau Ballet,
The Barracudas,
Oblivians,
ABBA,
Slick Rick,
Arcadia,
Second Layer,
Tom Boy,
Nirvana,
Eden Ahbez,
Robert Görl,
Faraquet,
Grandmaster Flash,
T. Rex,
Agitation Free,
Sister Nancy,
June Days,
The Black Dice,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Accadde A,
Au Pairs,
Roxette,
Skarface,
Pussy Galore,
Unrelated Segments,
Pulsallama,
The Slackers,
Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth.
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.