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 Pakistan and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Terrestrial Tones to the rap 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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rites of Spring 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 a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Unwound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crash Course in Science,
Lou Christie,
Sugar Minott,
Reuben Wilson,
Franke,
T. Rex,
Deepchord,
The Detroit Cobras,
Junior Murvin,
Unwound,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Dirtbombs,
The Fortunes,
Stockholm Monsters,
Hardrive,
Toni Rubio,
Inner City,
Ultra Naté,
Judy Mowatt,
Bronski Beat,
Sparks,
Nils Olav,
The Selecter,
Underground Resistance,
The Durutti Column,
Sandy B,
The Sound,
B.T. Express,
The Red Krayola,
AZ,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Joyce Sims,
The Offenders,
Dawn Penn,
Television Personalities,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Shuggie Otis,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jacob Miller,
The Gories,
Idris Muhammad,
EPMD,
Tropical Tobacco,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Johnny Osbourne,
Alphaville,
Ituana,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lebanon Hanover,
Monks,
Animal Collective,
The Buckinghams,
Roxy Music,
the Germs,
Chris & Cosey,
Second Layer,
The Victims,
Nas,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.