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 Samoa and from Madrid.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Tropical Tobacco to the electroclash 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 Rekid. All the underground hits.
All Silicon Teens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shuggie Otis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Duran Duran,
the Soft Cell,
The Trojans,
The Velvet Underground,
Blancmange,
La Düsseldorf,
Brass Construction,
Country Teasers,
Mandrill,
Shoche,
the Association,
Royal Trux,
Ken Boothe,
The Skatalites,
The Invisible,
Fluxion,
Jandek,
The Blackbyrds,
Don Cherry,
Black Sheep,
Boz Scaggs,
Mark Hollis,
EPMD,
Dave Gahan,
Cluster,
Dorothy Ashby,
Black Moon,
Ten City,
Urselle,
Heaven 17,
The Victims,
kango's stein massive,
Magma,
The Neon Judgement,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kerrie Biddell,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
James White and The Blacks,
K-Klass,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Quantec,
the Slits,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Jawbox,
Smog,
Carl Craig,
Ice-T,
June of 44,
Rotary Connection,
Traffic Nightmare,
Slave,
Guru Guru,
The Durutti Column,
Roxette,
Slick Rick,
Funky Four + One,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Divine Comedy,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.