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 Malawi and from Johannesburg.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Junior Murvin 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 Piero Umiliani. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Zeros record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
Amazonics,
48th St. Collective,
Scratch Acid,
The Blues Magoos,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Nico,
The Searchers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Index,
U.S. Maple,
Bill Near,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Blossom Toes,
Eric B and Rakim,
John Coltrane,
Donny Hathaway,
Unrelated Segments,
Buzzcocks,
Lalann,
The Martian,
Bronski Beat,
Harry Pussy,
Visage,
Althea and Donna,
June of 44,
Mary Jane Girls,
This Heat,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sugar Minott,
The Blackbyrds,
James White and The Blacks,
Freddie Wadling,
FM Einheit,
Bill Wells,
The Move,
Eric Copeland,
The Sound,
Aural Exciters,
The Misunderstood,
Alison Limerick,
The Shadows of Knight,
Alphaville,
Aswad,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Malaria!,
Q and Not U,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Magazine,
The Fugs,
Index,
The Gun Club,
Eurythmics,
Joensuu 1685,
Amon Düül II,
CMW,
Nik Kershaw,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Interpol,
Agitation Free,
Prince Buster,
Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy.
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.