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 Oman and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Jesper Dahlback to the techno 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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All the Slits 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 techno 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 harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Flag,
Cheater Slicks,
The Gap Band,
Sister Nancy,
Ralphi Rosario,
Crispian St. Peters,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bobby Sherman,
Siglo XX,
Mr. Review,
Marshall Jefferson,
Prince Buster,
Kerri Chandler,
Nation of Ulysses,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Chris & Cosey,
Swans,
Y Pants,
Procol Harum,
Sarah Menescal,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Porter Ricks,
Banda Bassotti,
Minnie Riperton,
Roxy Music,
Monks,
Nirvana,
Duran Duran,
Simply Red,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bluetip,
Jacob Miller,
Charles Mingus,
Joey Negro,
Archie Shepp,
David Bowie,
The Shadows of Knight,
Saccharine Trust,
Lungfish,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lightning Bolt,
Freddie Wadling,
Blake Baxter,
Graham Central Station,
Lucky Dragons,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Todd Rundgren,
The Slackers,
Man Eating Sloth,
Avey Tare,
Flamin' Groovies,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Rekid,
L. Decosne,
Sam Rivers,
Los Fastidios,
The Wake,
Spoonie Gee,
June of 44,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sex Pistols,
Hoover,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.