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 Madagascar and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 linndrum 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))) to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Girls At Our Best!. All the underground hits.
All Spandau Ballet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mo-Dettes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Altered Images,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Slackers,
Depeche Mode,
Graham Central Station,
Swell Maps,
Matthew Halsall,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Echospace,
Donald Byrd,
Saccharine Trust,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Boz Scaggs,
The Motions,
Underground Resistance,
Amon Düül,
Wire,
Babytalk,
Slick Rick,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Wolf Eyes,
Joe Finger,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Black Pus,
Boredoms,
KRS-One,
Drive Like Jehu,
Ronan,
Niagra,
Mission of Burma,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Minutemen,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Grass Roots,
Average White Band,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Radiohead,
Nik Kershaw,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
World's Most,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Simply Red,
Minny Pops,
The Knickerbockers,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Visage,
The Birthday Party,
Kaleidoscope,
The Toasters,
Tubeway Army,
Gang Green,
Essential Logic,
Delon & Dalcan,
Alton Ellis,
Ten City,
Sexual Harrassment,
Severed Heads,
Unrelated Segments,
Ultra Naté,
Pharoah Sanders,
Swans, Swans, Swans, Swans.
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.