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 Bahrain and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 Houston and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Lee Hazlewood to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Davy DMX. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Busters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Glenn Branca,
The Monochrome Set,
Sandy B,
Roxy Music,
Theoretical Girls,
Echospace,
The Sound,
Wolf Eyes,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Nick Fraelich,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Terry Callier,
Negative Approach,
The Last Poets,
Pantytec,
Japan,
Circle Jerks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Godley & Creme,
Lou Christie,
Model 500,
Sonic Youth,
The Litter,
Letta Mbulu,
F. McDonald,
Duran Duran,
New Order,
Kerrie Biddell,
Spandau Ballet,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Aloha Tigers,
David Axelrod,
Crime,
Technova,
a-ha,
Brick,
Bush Tetras,
Shoche,
The Smoke,
Drexciya,
H. Thieme,
The Gladiators,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Skriet,
Kayak,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sam Rivers,
Khruangbin,
The Techniques,
the Bar-Kays,
Second Layer,
Sarah Menescal,
The Barracudas,
Deakin,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Eve St. Jones,
Cheater Slicks,
Reuben Wilson,
Todd Rundgren,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse.
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.