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 El Salvador and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
Jandek,
Nation of Ulysses,
Youth Brigade,
The Black Dice,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Inner City,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Music Machine,
Liliput,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Tubeway Army,
Todd Rundgren,
Moebius,
Byron Stingily,
The Vogues,
Goldenarms,
The Evens,
Kas Product,
Franke,
Pere Ubu,
The Monochrome Set,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Walker Brothers,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
a-ha,
The Red Krayola,
Kevin Saunderson,
Cluster,
Wings,
EPMD,
Nirvana,
Gichy Dan,
Bobby Byrd,
Minutemen,
Flash Fearless,
Man Parrish,
Eddi Front,
Negative Approach,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Gerry Rafferty,
Nas,
Kenny Larkin,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Zeros,
Maleditus Sound,
The Martian,
Laurel Aitken,
Rotary Connection,
Fear,
John Holt,
Excepter,
Little Man,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Five Americans,
The Electric Prunes,
KRS-One,
Tim Buckley,
Ultravox,
Main Source,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Donny Hathaway,
R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O..
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.