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 Liberia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bang On A Can to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All Marcia Griffiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Janne Schatter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
The Doors,
The Techniques,
Roy Ayers,
Marcia Griffiths,
Eddi Front,
Radiohead,
Man Parrish,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
DJ Sneak,
The Young Rascals,
Boredoms,
The Beau Brummels,
Yazoo,
Magma,
T. Rex,
Albert Ayler,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Move,
Dead Boys,
The Searchers,
Stetsasonic,
Whodini,
Kenny Larkin,
Simply Red,
Graham Central Station,
Minny Pops,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Rosa Yemen,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Cymande,
The Velvet Underground,
The Divine Comedy,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Panda Bear,
Maleditus Sound,
Banda Bassotti,
Yaz,
Vladislav Delay,
Unwound,
Bang On A Can,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Drexciya,
Peter and Kerry,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
the Slits,
Ice-T,
Toni Rubio,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Electric Prunes,
Morten Harket,
Marvin Gaye,
Gang of Four,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Peter & Gordon,
Henry Cow,
Eric Copeland,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Skarface,
The Cure,
Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry.
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.