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 Gabon and from Salvador.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 clarinet 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 Drexciya to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Amazonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Residents record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Cramps,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Jacob Miller,
Nik Kershaw,
Suburban Knight,
Scratch Acid,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Deakin,
Khruangbin,
The Golliwogs,
Black Pus,
Fugazi,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Blancmange,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Soft Cell,
T.S.O.L.,
Index,
The Grass Roots,
The Count Five,
The Index,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
David Axelrod,
Curtis Mayfield,
Tommy Roe,
The American Breed,
Slave,
Severed Heads,
The Neon Judgement,
Boogie Down Productions,
Morten Harket,
U.S. Maple,
The Detroit Cobras,
Jimmy McGriff,
Essential Logic,
Minor Threat,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Charles Mingus,
the Fania All-Stars,
Funkadelic,
Bill Wells,
Peter and Kerry,
Frankie Knuckles,
Metal Thangz,
The Vogues,
FM Einheit,
Mary Jane Girls,
Carl Craig,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Echospace,
EPMD,
Suicide,
Swell Maps,
Grey Daturas,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Godley & Creme,
Neil Young,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.