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 Maldives and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 snare 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 Barbara Tucker to the crunk 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 Minnie Riperton. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tom Boy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a JFA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rosa Yemen,
New York Dolls,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Essential Logic,
Eurythmics,
Malaria!,
Throbbing Gristle,
Slave,
La Düsseldorf,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Beau Brummels,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Litter,
Sister Nancy,
Spoonie Gee,
David Axelrod,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Jawbox,
the Swans,
the Fania All-Stars,
Harry Pussy,
The Seeds,
Lee Hazlewood,
Black Sheep,
Cymande,
Radiohead,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Smiths,
John Lydon,
Flipper,
Gastr Del Sol,
Khruangbin,
David Bowie,
Siglo XX,
Spandau Ballet,
Ponytail,
Pulsallama,
The Motions,
Pussy Galore,
Masters at Work,
8 Eyed Spy,
Unwound,
Marc Almond,
Accadde A,
Jacques Brel,
Boz Scaggs,
The Monks,
The Electric Prunes,
The Dave Clark Five,
Parry Music,
Man Parrish,
Dave Gahan,
John Coltrane,
Bang On A Can,
The Young Rascals,
The Zeros,
Silicon Teens,
Mark Hollis,
Byron Stingily,
Surgeon,
Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys.
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.