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 Samoa and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Taipei.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the guitar 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 Hasil Adkins to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Lee Hazlewood. All the underground hits.
All Brass Construction tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gian Franco Pienzio 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moleskins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb 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 Gladiators,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Jeff Lynne,
Faust,
Pharoah Sanders,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Detroit Cobras,
T.S.O.L.,
Ronan,
Reagan Youth,
The Red Krayola,
X-101,
Ohio Players,
The Fugs,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
the Bar-Kays,
The Gories,
Morten Harket,
The Moody Blues,
Clear Light,
Echospace,
the Slits,
Drive Like Jehu,
cv313,
Pantaleimon,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Minor Threat,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Radio Birdman,
The Barracudas,
The Young Rascals,
Amon Düül II,
The Walker Brothers,
Lindisfarne,
Moby Grape,
Newcleus,
The Mummies,
Eve St. Jones,
Flash Fearless,
the Fania All-Stars,
Janne Schatter,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
F. McDonald,
La Düsseldorf,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Soul II Soul,
A Certain Ratio,
Pulsallama,
U.S. Maple,
Max Romeo,
Sandy B,
Moss Icon,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Hardrive,
The Kinks,
Inner City,
Sunsets and Hearts,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Mojo Men,
Throbbing Gristle,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.