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 Gambia and from Tehran.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the 808 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 Urselle to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bob Dylan. All the underground hits.
All Alison Limerick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Popol Vuh,
Ultra Naté,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gerry Rafferty,
Eve St. Jones,
The Toasters,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Zeros,
Babytalk,
Crispy Ambulance,
Wolf Eyes,
The Star Department,
Sixth Finger,
Organ,
The Walker Brothers,
Theoretical Girls,
Camouflage,
Livin' Joy,
Radiohead,
Symarip,
Nico,
Radiopuhelimet,
Half Japanese,
Sandy B,
Crime,
Curtis Mayfield,
Little Man,
Scrapy,
Maurizio,
Gil Scott Heron,
Franke,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bob Dylan,
Alton Ellis,
Nils Olav,
H. Thieme,
Intrusion,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
the Sonics,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Black Dice,
The Dead C,
The Gun Club,
The Doors,
Lyres,
Todd Rundgren,
The Index,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ossler,
New Order,
Mantronix,
Absolute Body Control,
Crooked Eye,
Unwound,
Country Joe & The Fish,
48th St. Collective,
Television Personalities,
The Fuzztones,
The Sound,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms.
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.