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 Tonga and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the sitar 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 The Wake to the dance 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 Bobby Womack. All the underground hits.
All Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Trumans Water record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Index,
Sexual Harrassment,
Brothers Johnson,
Country Teasers,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Gories,
8 Eyed Spy,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Lakeside,
Bad Manners,
Jacob Miller,
Scratch Acid,
Youth Brigade,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Crooked Eye,
Byron Stingily,
Rakim,
Jacques Brel,
Patti Smith,
Make Up,
Scrapy,
Bobby Womack,
Scion,
The Flesh Eaters,
the Sonics,
Ken Boothe,
Minny Pops,
Jerry's Kids,
Roxy Music,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
48th St. Collective,
Roxette,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Johnny Osbourne,
Mo-Dettes,
Lalo Schifrin,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Subhumans,
Glenn Branca,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Five Americans,
Brand Nubian,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Lungfish,
Brass Construction,
The Moody Blues,
The Dirtbombs,
Radiopuhelimet,
Graham Central Station,
The Move,
Aural Exciters,
Bush Tetras,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Excepter,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Martian,
The Offenders,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.