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 Oman and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Clear Light to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Lalo Schifrin. All the underground hits.
All The Standells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Coltrane 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
Bluetip,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Absolute Body Control,
Stereo Dub,
Metal Thangz,
The Flesh Eaters,
Arab on Radar,
The Slits,
Bobby Womack,
Eden Ahbez,
Bronski Beat,
MC5,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Rakim,
Swans,
Stetsasonic,
Franke,
The Monochrome Set,
Grey Daturas,
Cheater Slicks,
Y Pants,
Letta Mbulu,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Schoolly D,
Scrapy,
Funky Four + One,
Hasil Adkins,
Shoche,
L. Decosne,
Tommy Roe,
Yusef Lateef,
Buzzcocks,
Boredoms,
Black Moon,
The Sound,
Sex Pistols,
Gerry Rafferty,
John Foxx,
Spandau Ballet,
Babytalk,
Silicon Teens,
Mad Mike,
Suburban Knight,
The Dirtbombs,
Cameo,
The Fire Engines,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Model 500,
Mo-Dettes,
the Germs,
Depeche Mode,
CMW,
Moss Icon,
Althea and Donna,
The Residents,
Bobby Byrd,
Crispy Ambulance,
Half Japanese,
Hoover,
the Normal,
Gastr Del Sol,
Fad Gadget,
Guru Guru,
Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico.
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.