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 Antigua and from Toronto.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bang On A Can to the jazz 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 The Standells. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Birthday Party record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Beau Brummels,
Roxette,
Terry Callier,
Lower 48,
Tropical Tobacco,
Yaz,
Sly & The Family Stone,
EPMD,
Royal Trux,
Khruangbin,
Harmonia,
Flash Fearless,
Simply Red,
Man Eating Sloth,
Nils Olav,
Echospace,
New York Dolls,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Blake Baxter,
Young Marble Giants,
Lebanon Hanover,
Trumans Water,
Donald Byrd,
Grauzone,
Laurel Aitken,
Nirvana,
T.S.O.L.,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Martian,
The Cramps,
Guru Guru,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kurtis Blow,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Invisible,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Isaac Hayes,
The Dirtbombs,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Unrelated Segments,
David Bowie,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Fad Gadget,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Flamin' Groovies,
Mandrill,
Barbara Tucker,
Amazonics,
Alton Ellis,
Minutemen,
LL Cool J,
Public Enemy,
Fluxion,
Bob Dylan,
the Germs,
Underground Resistance,
Eddi Front,
John Foxx,
Circle Jerks,
the Slits,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Rekid,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.