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 Korea North and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the mellotron 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 The United States of America to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Shuggie Otis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Motions,
The Modern Lovers,
Don Cherry,
The Names,
Reagan Youth,
The Last Poets,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Music Machine,
James White and The Blacks,
New York Dolls,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sarah Menescal,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Susan Cadogan,
Section 25,
Erasure,
Ossler,
Cluster,
Gang Starr,
Alice Coltrane,
Maleditus Sound,
The Electric Prunes,
Man Eating Sloth,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Beau Brummels,
Lebanon Hanover,
Suicide,
Tubeway Army,
Agitation Free,
Carl Craig,
Pussy Galore,
Robert Hood,
Basic Channel,
John Cale,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Monks,
Joyce Sims,
a-ha,
Radiopuhelimet,
Pole,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Junior Murvin,
Bush Tetras,
Arab on Radar,
Monks,
Con Funk Shun,
The Blackbyrds,
The Leaves,
Grauzone,
The Raincoats,
The Busters,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Warsaw,
Flipper,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Zero Boys,
Jawbox,
The Residents,
The Red Krayola,
Barbara Tucker,
Yaz,
Hashim,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.