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 Ukraine and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the crunk 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 Terrestrial Tones. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a June Days record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
F. McDonald,
Derrick Morgan,
The Beau Brummels,
The Sonics,
Amon Düül II,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Blackbyrds,
Duran Duran,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Gun Club,
Negative Approach,
Half Japanese,
The Techniques,
Flipper,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Dead Boys,
Aural Exciters,
Los Fastidios,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Flesh Eaters,
PIL,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Joyce Sims,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Lightning Bolt,
Pet Shop Boys,
Grey Daturas,
Pylon,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Cure,
Dorothy Ashby,
Groovy Waters,
Loose Ends,
Piero Umiliani,
The Pretty Things,
Saccharine Trust,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Byron Stingily,
The Divine Comedy,
Alton Ellis,
Todd Terry,
Chris Corsano,
Metal Thangz,
These Immortal Souls,
Animal Collective,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Saints,
Easy Going,
The Victims,
Zero Boys,
Terrestrial Tones,
Soulsonic Force,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Neon Judgement,
Dave Gahan,
Gang Green,
The Move,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Archie Shepp,
The New Christs,
Scan 7,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.