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 Djibouti and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Bush Tetras to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Cabaret Voltaire. All the underground hits.
All Deepchord tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every L. Decosne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s 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 Flamin' Groovies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Organ,
The Fugs,
Amon Düül II,
Maurizio,
Angry Samoans,
This Heat,
The Divine Comedy,
UT,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
R.M.O.,
Rotary Connection,
Cymande,
The Sound,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Guru Guru,
Ronnie Foster,
Soft Cell,
Letta Mbulu,
Suicide,
Pulsallama,
Ponytail,
Japan,
the Human League,
Roy Ayers,
Fatback Band,
Little Man,
Nik Kershaw,
Hot Snakes,
The Young Rascals,
Sonic Youth,
Albert Ayler,
Das Ding,
Ten City,
Depeche Mode,
Davy DMX,
Panda Bear,
Whodini,
The Blues Magoos,
Robert Görl,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Y Pants,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Tres Demented,
Lee Hazlewood,
Fifty Foot Hose,
June of 44,
Don Cherry,
the Soft Cell,
The Detroit Cobras,
Man Eating Sloth,
Soul Sonic Force,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eve St. Jones,
In Retrospect,
Intrusion,
Barry Ungar,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Terry Callier,
Duran Duran,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.