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 Costa Rica and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Lagos.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Von Mondo to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Brand Nubian. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lizzy Mercier Descloux record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Archie Shepp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro 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 Seeds,
Fatback Band,
Jimmy McGriff,
Marmalade,
James White and The Blacks,
Mandrill,
Thompson Twins,
Fear,
Delta 5,
DJ Sneak,
Prince Buster,
Mo-Dettes,
Ralphi Rosario,
Swell Maps,
Joy Division,
Television,
Altered Images,
Surgeon,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The United States of America,
Kerrie Biddell,
Johnny Osbourne,
Pierre Henry,
Aloha Tigers,
Bob Dylan,
The Zeros,
Boz Scaggs,
The Durutti Column,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Harry Pussy,
the Bar-Kays,
Grauzone,
Scott Walker,
Joe Finger,
Ornette Coleman,
The Mojo Men,
Bobby Sherman,
The Invisible,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Modern Lovers,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
T. Rex,
The Motions,
Soul II Soul,
Alice Coltrane,
Juan Atkins,
Minnie Riperton,
Erykah Badu,
Minutemen,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Marvin Gaye,
Slick Rick,
Unwound,
Desert Stars,
Brand Nubian,
Procol Harum,
Second Layer,
Janne Schatter,
The Smoke,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.