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 Algeria and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the linndrum 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 F. McDonald to the punk 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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Charles Mingus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gastr Del Sol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
Kerrie Biddell,
Reuben Wilson,
The Blues Magoos,
Arcadia,
Ronnie Foster,
The Fortunes,
Reagan Youth,
a-ha,
Grey Daturas,
Alice Coltrane,
Pantytec,
The Standells,
Joe Smooth,
Surgeon,
Yaz,
Sandy B,
Soft Cell,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ohio Players,
The Stooges,
Darondo,
R.M.O.,
the Association,
Organ,
Sixth Finger,
Index,
The Seeds,
48th St. Collective,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Wolf Eyes,
Kayak,
Qualms,
Lungfish,
LL Cool J,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Mummies,
AZ,
Jawbox,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Trojans,
The Last Poets,
Nils Olav,
Ice-T,
Sexual Harrassment,
Alphaville,
Eli Mardock,
Minnie Riperton,
Kool Moe Dee,
Main Source,
Shuggie Otis,
Amon Düül II,
Rekid,
The Doobie Brothers,
Joe Finger,
Jeff Lynne,
Hashim,
Monolake,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Dark Day,
Cheater Slicks,
Electric Prunes,
Lebanon Hanover,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine.
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.