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 Slovakia and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 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 Laurel Aitken to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Loose Ends. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Michelle Simonal 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
FM Einheit,
Drexciya,
Electric Prunes,
Wire,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Byron Stingily,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Dennis Brown,
Ultra Naté,
Sonic Youth,
Alice Coltrane,
The Motions,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sällskapet,
the Slits,
Magazine,
Schoolly D,
Gang of Four,
Nas,
The Modern Lovers,
Sight & Sound,
Slave,
Gang Starr,
Joyce Sims,
Franke,
Rekid,
Popol Vuh,
Angry Samoans,
Ken Boothe,
the Association,
Kayak,
Crime,
Darondo,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Malaria!,
Gastr Del Sol,
Amon Düül,
E-Dancer,
Subhumans,
Intrusion,
Ohio Players,
The Invisible,
The Black Dice,
Janne Schatter,
Jerry's Kids,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Khruangbin,
DNA,
Trumans Water,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Frankie Knuckles,
Funky Four + One,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Deadbeat,
Robert Görl,
Godley & Creme,
James White and The Blacks,
Severed Heads,
Andrew Hill,
Con Funk Shun,
The Five Americans,
The Searchers,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.