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 Dominican Republic and from Spokane.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Barry Ungar to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Germs. All the underground hits.
All Cluster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Popol Vuh record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Marine Girls,
The Dead C,
The Count Five,
Fluxion,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Slits,
Duran Duran,
MDC,
The Angels of Light,
Big Daddy Kane,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bill Wells,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Morten Harket,
Gang of Four,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Alton Ellis,
The Saints,
Bang On A Can,
The Index,
T.S.O.L.,
Moby Grape,
Television,
Gabor Szabo,
Franke,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Glambeats Corp.,
B.T. Express,
Chrome,
Kayak,
Kevin Saunderson,
Fat Boys,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Roxette,
Barry Ungar,
Curtis Mayfield,
John Foxx,
the Fania All-Stars,
Monolake,
Mary Jane Girls,
Terrestrial Tones,
Tears for Fears,
The Birthday Party,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Josef K,
Sonic Youth,
Bootsy Collins,
Lindisfarne,
The Neon Judgement,
Wolf Eyes,
Ice-T,
Rotary Connection,
June of 44,
Panda Bear,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The J.B.'s,
Joy Division,
Oblivians,
Gil Scott Heron,
Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash.
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.