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 Singapore and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Robert Hood to the rap 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 Mark Hollis. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sister Nancy 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 snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Young Marble Giants,
Rites of Spring,
Gang Starr,
Tim Buckley,
Robert Görl,
Ituana,
Amon Düül,
The Cure,
Kenny Larkin,
Panda Bear,
The Five Americans,
Lightning Bolt,
Colin Newman,
Scan 7,
Kas Product,
Rhythm & Sound,
Piero Umiliani,
DJ Style,
The New Christs,
T. Rex,
Masters at Work,
the Bar-Kays,
Lakeside,
Saccharine Trust,
Glenn Branca,
Boredoms,
Derrick May,
Au Pairs,
Roy Ayers,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Invisible,
Procol Harum,
Ronnie Foster,
Severed Heads,
Max Romeo,
The Fire Engines,
The Blackbyrds,
Mark Hollis,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Minutemen,
Amazonics,
X-102,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Bluetip,
The Toasters,
The Wake,
B.T. Express,
Bronski Beat,
CMW,
Bobby Byrd,
Make Up,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Velvet Underground,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Birthday Party,
Suburban Knight,
R.M.O.,
Rufus Thomas,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.