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 Sao Paulo.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Monks to the dance 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 Josef K. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Franke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Godley & Creme,
Boredoms,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Amon Düül II,
10cc,
Index,
Masters at Work,
Aural Exciters,
Mars,
The Seeds,
Surgeon,
The Raincoats,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Urselle,
Royal Trux,
Underground Resistance,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
New York Dolls,
Jacques Brel,
Second Layer,
Vladislav Delay,
F. McDonald,
Ituana,
Pere Ubu,
K-Klass,
The Stooges,
Freddie Wadling,
Sex Pistols,
Rapeman,
Camberwell Now,
Kurtis Blow,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Pussy Galore,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Visage,
Alphaville,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Wally Richardson,
The Blackbyrds,
EPMD,
The Grass Roots,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Prince Buster,
Spoonie Gee,
The Gories,
Kas Product,
The Fire Engines,
The Knickerbockers,
Susan Cadogan,
The Cramps,
Bush Tetras,
The Pretty Things,
The Doors,
Parry Music,
The Invisible,
Jacob Miller,
Popol Vuh,
Robert Görl,
The Standells,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.