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 Niger and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Searchers to the funk 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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All The Offenders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every MC5 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Finger,
Crispian St. Peters,
Charles Mingus,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
UT,
The Zeros,
Bad Manners,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Severed Heads,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Residents,
the Swans,
Bobby Byrd,
Outsiders,
Carl Craig,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Buzzcocks,
EPMD,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kool Moe Dee,
Kayak,
Cameo,
Tres Demented,
The Alarm Clocks,
Index,
The Walker Brothers,
Con Funk Shun,
Bush Tetras,
Minor Threat,
Fatback Band,
Mandrill,
Letta Mbulu,
Joensuu 1685,
Blossom Toes,
Magma,
Nik Kershaw,
B.T. Express,
The Golliwogs,
Black Flag,
Lebanon Hanover,
Pussy Galore,
Tropical Tobacco,
Barbara Tucker,
The Misunderstood,
Kerri Chandler,
Janne Schatter,
Infiniti,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Excepter,
Lindisfarne,
Archie Shepp,
Kas Product,
X-101,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Standells,
Fugazi,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Theoretical Girls,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style.
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.