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 Papua New Guinea and from Edmonton.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The United States of America to the funk 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 CMW. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fire Engines 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bang On A Can,
Neu!,
The Knickerbockers,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Can,
The Pretty Things,
Fear,
Sister Nancy,
The Victims,
The Remains,
Severed Heads,
Kevin Saunderson,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Kinks,
Theoretical Girls,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sight & Sound,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Litter,
Technova,
Tim Buckley,
Gerry Rafferty,
Erasure,
48th St. Collective,
The Selecter,
Dennis Brown,
Laurel Aitken,
The Seeds,
Fifty Foot Hose,
the Germs,
Rufus Thomas,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Pagans,
Curtis Mayfield,
Schoolly D,
Robert Wyatt,
the Bar-Kays,
The Saints,
Liliput,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Cramps,
B.T. Express,
Blake Baxter,
Lightning Bolt,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Roy Ayers,
Reagan Youth,
MC5,
Ralphi Rosario,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Names,
The Detroit Cobras,
Massinfluence,
Hot Snakes,
Scientists,
Groovy Waters,
Zero Boys,
Traffic Nightmare,
Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren.
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.