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 Liechtenstein and from Manila.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Stockholm Monsters to the rap 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 Lou Reed. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Slits record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crash Course in Science record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Graham Central Station,
The Real Kids,
Pere Ubu,
Prince Buster,
E-Dancer,
Marine Girls,
The Grass Roots,
Ituana,
Slick Rick,
Ronnie Foster,
The Beau Brummels,
Subhumans,
The Slits,
Negative Approach,
Terry Callier,
The Fire Engines,
The Red Krayola,
Bad Manners,
Wally Richardson,
Ken Boothe,
Jerry's Kids,
EPMD,
Drive Like Jehu,
Lakeside,
Public Enemy,
Excepter,
Eden Ahbez,
The Remains,
Arab on Radar,
Symarip,
The J.B.'s,
The Buckinghams,
Matthew Halsall,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Talk Talk,
Gichy Dan,
Magma,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Index,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Fat Boys,
T.S.O.L.,
The Divine Comedy,
Rekid,
The Monks,
Pussy Galore,
Scrapy,
John Foxx,
Lyres,
Susan Cadogan,
Bootsy Collins,
Agitation Free,
Bob Dylan,
June Days,
X-Ray Spex,
Sam Rivers,
Adolescents,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Main Source,
JFA,
X-102, X-102, X-102, X-102.
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.