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 Tunisia and from Bremen.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the güiro 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 Lightning Bolt to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 KRS-One. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cal Tjader record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Tremeloes,
A Certain Ratio,
John Coltrane,
Camberwell Now,
The Vogues,
Fatback Band,
B.T. Express,
Procol Harum,
Desert Stars,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Unrelated Segments,
Animal Collective,
The Residents,
John Lydon,
Rotary Connection,
Moebius,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Todd Terry,
the Sonics,
Don Cherry,
Tubeway Army,
Josef K,
Gang Green,
Carl Craig,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Jeru the Damaja,
Darondo,
John Cale,
Groovy Waters,
Fear,
Brick,
Public Image Ltd.,
Radio Birdman,
Masters at Work,
Jimmy McGriff,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bobby Byrd,
Arthur Verocai,
Scan 7,
Negative Approach,
AZ,
T. Rex,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Skatalites,
Barrington Levy,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Chris Corsano,
The Kinks,
Scientists,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Peter & Gordon,
Black Flag,
The Smiths,
David Bowie,
Harmonia,
Lalann,
Crash Course in Science,
Ken Boothe,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.