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 Pakistan and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 marimba 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Guru Guru record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Blossom Toes,
The Grass Roots,
Glambeats Corp.,
Depeche Mode,
Wasted Youth,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
H. Thieme,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Happenings,
Deepchord,
Slave,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Pantytec,
T.S.O.L.,
Barrington Levy,
Livin' Joy,
Marcia Griffiths,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Reuben Wilson,
Terrestrial Tones,
Lyres,
Tres Demented,
Circle Jerks,
Don Cherry,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Intrusion,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Fad Gadget,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
T. Rex,
Hashim,
Audionom,
The Mojo Men,
Roger Hodgson,
Can,
Index,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lungfish,
Frankie Knuckles,
Section 25,
Grey Daturas,
Urselle,
Mr. Review,
The Barracudas,
Jesper Dahlback,
MC5,
Nas,
Grandmaster Flash,
Robert Wyatt,
The Leaves,
Fluxion,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Pagans,
Silicon Teens,
Jeff Mills,
Outsiders,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Wire,
Ludus,
Heaven 17,
Carl Craig,
Michelle Simonal, Michelle Simonal, Michelle Simonal, Michelle Simonal.
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.