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 Bulgaria and from New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the snare 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 Los Fastidios to the grunge 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 American Breed. All the underground hits.
All The Moody Blues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Main Source,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Brothers Johnson,
Matthew Halsall,
F. McDonald,
Eden Ahbez,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bill Near,
Swans,
The Toasters,
Aloha Tigers,
Bush Tetras,
Soft Machine,
Ice-T,
Brass Construction,
Marmalade,
Dark Day,
Visage,
Khruangbin,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Intrusion,
Motorama,
Stetsasonic,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lalann,
Public Enemy,
the Bar-Kays,
New Order,
Charles Mingus,
Dorothy Ashby,
Scott Walker,
Lungfish,
Country Teasers,
Donald Byrd,
The Martian,
Throbbing Gristle,
Tomorrow,
Toni Rubio,
The Moody Blues,
Buzzcocks,
Zapp,
Bobby Byrd,
Graham Central Station,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Seeds,
Altered Images,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Shuggie Otis,
Laurel Aitken,
the Human League,
The Gun Club,
Alphaville,
Half Japanese,
DJ Sneak,
Animal Collective,
Rekid,
Brand Nubian,
Judy Mowatt,
Neil Young,
Ludus,
The Slits,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds.
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.