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 Liechtenstein and from Hong Kong.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Chrome to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Soft Machine. All the underground hits.
All ABBA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd 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 an oboe and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
Lucky Dragons,
Danielle Patucci,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sun Ra,
Absolute Body Control,
Roxy Music,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
the Association,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Pussy Galore,
Sparks,
B.T. Express,
Slick Rick,
The Real Kids,
Pantaleimon,
Pet Shop Boys,
Skarface,
Harpers Bizarre,
Minnie Riperton,
Connie Case,
Arthur Verocai,
John Holt,
Clear Light,
Quantec,
Yaz,
Crooked Eye,
Yusef Lateef,
The Fall,
Public Enemy,
Masters at Work,
Con Funk Shun,
A Certain Ratio,
Max Romeo,
Panda Bear,
Fela Kuti,
The Doors,
Drive Like Jehu,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sixth Finger,
Sarah Menescal,
The Names,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bobbi Humphrey,
the Soft Cell,
DNA,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Graham Central Station,
Funky Four + One,
Reuben Wilson,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Amazonics,
Bluetip,
Joensuu 1685,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Swell Maps,
Young Marble Giants,
The Angels of Light,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Stockholm Monsters,
Minutemen,
Black Sheep,
Sugar Minott,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.