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 Germany and from Delhi.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Sällskapet to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 John Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw 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 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeff Mills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxy Music,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Swell Maps,
Bob Dylan,
Pantytec,
The Trojans,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Buzzcocks,
Graham Central Station,
Howard Jones,
Black Flag,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Susan Cadogan,
Harry Pussy,
The Searchers,
Nick Fraelich,
Sun City Girls,
Chris Corsano,
A Certain Ratio,
Pulsallama,
Yellowson,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
DJ Sneak,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Trumans Water,
Cameo,
Drexciya,
Neil Young,
Q and Not U,
Youth Brigade,
Leonard Cohen,
Frankie Knuckles,
Thee Headcoats,
Girls At Our Best!,
L. Decosne,
The Monks,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Arthur Verocai,
Mad Mike,
Albert Ayler,
Vainqueur,
a-ha,
Ultimate Spinach,
Basic Channel,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Moss Icon,
Peter & Gordon,
Stiv Bators,
Pet Shop Boys,
Joyce Sims,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Oneida,
Suburban Knight,
Prince Buster,
Michelle Simonal,
Tropical Tobacco,
Oblivians,
Eddi Front,
Easy Going,
Circle Jerks,
Pere Ubu,
Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers.
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.