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 Estonia and from Delhi.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe 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 Country Teasers 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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All Barrington Levy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
Jawbox,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Aswad,
Banda Bassotti,
The Alarm Clocks,
Cal Tjader,
The Trojans,
Crooked Eye,
Bootsy Collins,
D'Angelo,
Das Ding,
Kayak,
Moby Grape,
Theoretical Girls,
Thee Headcoats,
Hot Snakes,
the Germs,
Steve Hackett,
Negative Approach,
OOIOO,
Juan Atkins,
Skaos,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Harmonia,
Reuben Wilson,
Man Eating Sloth,
Albert Ayler,
Gang Green,
Rhythm & Sound,
H. Thieme,
Television Personalities,
The Monks,
The Gories,
The Motions,
Lakeside,
X-101,
Alice Coltrane,
Erykah Badu,
The Dave Clark Five,
Scott Walker,
Altered Images,
Depeche Mode,
Ronnie Foster,
Half Japanese,
Arcadia,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Gladiators,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Arthur Verocai,
Saccharine Trust,
Loose Ends,
Fear,
Bobby Byrd,
Quantec,
E-Dancer,
The Vogues,
Crispian St. Peters,
DJ Style,
Minutemen,
Cluster,
Nas, Nas, Nas, Nas.
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.