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 Hungary and from Shanghai.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 marimba 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 American Breed to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks 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 a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minnie Riperton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Vogues,
Graham Central Station,
Clear Light,
the Association,
Chris Corsano,
ABC,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Gregory Isaacs,
Stetsasonic,
Pussy Galore,
Nation of Ulysses,
Television,
Oblivians,
Harry Pussy,
Andrew Hill,
Piero Umiliani,
Bobby Womack,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Rufus Thomas,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Althea and Donna,
Thee Headcoats,
Infiniti,
The Barracudas,
The Doors,
The United States of America,
Wolf Eyes,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Silicon Teens,
John Coltrane,
Hot Snakes,
Vladislav Delay,
D'Angelo,
Electric Prunes,
The Misunderstood,
Technova,
Al Stewart,
Glenn Branca,
Scan 7,
Buzzcocks,
Sonic Youth,
Alphaville,
One Last Wish,
Carl Craig,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Monks,
The Music Machine,
Little Man,
Cymande,
Reagan Youth,
This Heat,
Todd Terry,
The Monochrome Set,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Japan,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Warsaw,
Amon Düül,
The Toasters,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.