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 Bhutan and from Lagos.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft to the electroclash 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 Bill Wells. All the underground hits.
All The Durutti Column tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Justin Hinds & The Dominoes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Tubeway Army,
Eli Mardock,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Fugs,
Kaleidoscope,
The Modern Lovers,
Guru Guru,
Mad Mike,
Boz Scaggs,
Angry Samoans,
Derrick May,
Scott Walker,
Jeff Mills,
Pharoah Sanders,
Boogie Down Productions,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sarah Menescal,
Vladislav Delay,
Roger Hodgson,
Amazonics,
The Evens,
Harpers Bizarre,
Wolf Eyes,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Golliwogs,
Mary Jane Girls,
Wally Richardson,
Danielle Patucci,
Grey Daturas,
Robert Wyatt,
Erykah Badu,
Marvin Gaye,
Bauhaus,
Dead Boys,
Arab on Radar,
Johnny Clarke,
The Gun Club,
Basic Channel,
Henry Cow,
Eve St. Jones,
John Cale,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Inner City,
The Toasters,
Fatback Band,
Eden Ahbez,
Banda Bassotti,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bluetip,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Kool Moe Dee,
Slave,
The Red Krayola,
Gong,
Scan 7,
Jawbox,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Monochrome Set,
It's A Beautiful Day, It's A Beautiful Day, It's A Beautiful Day, It's A Beautiful Day.
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.