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 Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Pussy Galore to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Slackers. All the underground hits.
All Lyres tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sarah Menescal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Normal,
Cymande,
KRS-One,
World's Most,
Tears for Fears,
Radio Birdman,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gong,
Hardrive,
Sonic Youth,
MDC,
The Busters,
Byron Stingily,
Cluster,
The Doobie Brothers,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Terrestrial Tones,
Laurel Aitken,
Kerrie Biddell,
John Coltrane,
UT,
The American Breed,
Silicon Teens,
Erasure,
Brass Construction,
DJ Sneak,
Faust,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Knickerbockers,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Rites of Spring,
Goldenarms,
Nas,
Ituana,
Au Pairs,
Fugazi,
The Gladiators,
Hashim,
Ponytail,
Babytalk,
T. Rex,
Das Ding,
Eric Copeland,
Joyce Sims,
The Raincoats,
Eric Dolphy,
The Vogues,
the Fania All-Stars,
Monks,
Essential Logic,
New York Dolls,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Electric Prunes,
Fatback Band,
Dual Sessions,
Panda Bear,
Roxy Music,
Juan Atkins,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.