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 New Zealand and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the 808 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 Parry Music to the rock 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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magma 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Schoolly D record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Gang Green,
DJ Sneak,
Minutemen,
The Last Poets,
The Black Dice,
Lou Reed,
MC5,
Nation of Ulysses,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
8 Eyed Spy,
Yellowson,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Average White Band,
Toni Rubio,
Patti Smith,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Zeros,
Sunsets and Hearts,
One Last Wish,
Pere Ubu,
Flash Fearless,
The Flesh Eaters,
Monolake,
Jawbox,
Mr. Review,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Dirtbombs,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Remains,
The Index,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Dual Sessions,
Slave,
Slick Rick,
Gil Scott Heron,
Frankie Knuckles,
Rites of Spring,
Danielle Patucci,
X-101,
Magma,
Don Cherry,
Peter and Kerry,
Wolf Eyes,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bluetip,
AZ,
Nas,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lower 48,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Trojans,
Bobby Sherman,
Harmonia,
The Blues Magoos,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Vainqueur,
Fad Gadget,
Inner City,
Howard Jones,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.