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 Tonga and from Lille.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Seeds to the dance 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 The Stooges. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Scrapy,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Kenny Larkin,
A Certain Ratio,
Cheater Slicks,
Inner City,
Crispy Ambulance,
a-ha,
Duran Duran,
Amon Düül,
Marine Girls,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Dirtbombs,
The Searchers,
10cc,
Pagans,
Al Stewart,
Zero Boys,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Selecter,
Jandek,
Iggy Pop,
Peter and Kerry,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Walker Brothers,
Drexciya,
Accadde A,
the Normal,
Masters at Work,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sexual Harrassment,
DJ Style,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tommy Roe,
Young Marble Giants,
Infiniti,
Gang Green,
Agitation Free,
Aswad,
Black Moon,
E-Dancer,
The Five Americans,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Barracudas,
Angry Samoans,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Maleditus Sound,
Sam Rivers,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Detroit Cobras,
Lyres,
Monks,
Pantytec,
F. McDonald,
Alton Ellis,
Sex Pistols,
Pulsallama,
Oneida,
Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster.
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.