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 Taiwan and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 spring reverb 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 Crispian St. Peters to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Grey Daturas. All the underground hits.
All June of 44 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Royal Family And The Poor 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Hood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Underground Resistance,
The Fire Engines,
Barclay James Harvest,
Aloha Tigers,
Kayak,
Scratch Acid,
Fatback Band,
Amon Düül,
Niagra,
Gang Starr,
The Tremeloes,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Vainqueur,
Jeff Mills,
The Slackers,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Music Machine,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Raincoats,
The Wake,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Terry Callier,
The Fortunes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Flash Fearless,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Eve St. Jones,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Scientists,
Sex Pistols,
Circle Jerks,
Tim Buckley,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Electric Prunes,
Skriet,
Al Stewart,
X-102,
Derrick Morgan,
Arab on Radar,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
T. Rex,
The Victims,
Television,
Wally Richardson,
Kool Moe Dee,
Trumans Water,
Juan Atkins,
Altered Images,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Loose Ends,
ABBA,
Agitation Free,
Skaos,
The Cure,
Erykah Badu,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Black Dice,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.