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 Kazakhstan and from Lyon.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 guitar 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 Robert Wyatt 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Roxette tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fear 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Circle Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jacques Brel,
Adolescents,
Cluster,
Yazoo,
Maurizio,
Lalann,
The Barracudas,
Al Stewart,
MDC,
Boz Scaggs,
Model 500,
Animal Collective,
Severed Heads,
Moby Grape,
Blossom Toes,
Aloha Tigers,
Newcleus,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Metal Thangz,
Average White Band,
Joey Negro,
X-Ray Spex,
The Selecter,
Crash Course in Science,
Sarah Menescal,
Robert Hood,
Bad Manners,
The Seeds,
Darondo,
The Last Poets,
John Foxx,
The Pretty Things,
Hoover,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Shuggie Otis,
Heaven 17,
Q and Not U,
Tears for Fears,
Half Japanese,
Tubeway Army,
LL Cool J,
Black Bananas,
The Blackbyrds,
Juan Atkins,
Panda Bear,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Faraquet,
Deakin,
Tomorrow,
Cheater Slicks,
Sight & Sound,
Funkadelic,
Dorothy Ashby,
Inner City,
Harry Pussy,
Accadde A,
Siglo XX,
Joy Division,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bizarre Inc.,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance.
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.