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 India and from Tehran.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Columbus.
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 Robert Palmer 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 Evens to the grunge 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 New Christs. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
Drive Like Jehu,
Soulsonic Force,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kas Product,
The Smiths,
Television,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Roy Ayers,
The Count Five,
The Angels of Light,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Moody Blues,
Bill Wells,
The Pretty Things,
Andrew Hill,
Wasted Youth,
The Knickerbockers,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ituana,
Slick Rick,
Skarface,
U.S. Maple,
Gabor Szabo,
Traffic Nightmare,
Circle Jerks,
8 Eyed Spy,
Terrestrial Tones,
World's Most,
Gerry Rafferty,
Gang of Four,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Eric Dolphy,
La Düsseldorf,
10cc,
Ponytail,
Barclay James Harvest,
Popol Vuh,
Pantytec,
Shoche,
Frankie Knuckles,
Alice Coltrane,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Cymande,
The Fugs,
Brick,
Unwound,
Brothers Johnson,
Theoretical Girls,
Nico,
The Buckinghams,
Tom Boy,
Lakeside,
The Remains,
OOIOO,
Mars,
Qualms,
The Happenings,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.