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 Benin and from Lyon.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Cal Tjader to the crunk 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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All Y Pants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siouxsie and the Banshees record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flipper,
Cymande,
Massinfluence,
Dawn Penn,
The Music Machine,
Soulsonic Force,
Swell Maps,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lou Reed,
Hoover,
Bobby Womack,
Interpol,
Byron Stingily,
John Foxx,
Eric B and Rakim,
Mo-Dettes,
Patti Smith,
Archie Shepp,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
June Days,
The Five Americans,
Monks,
Zero Boys,
Yaz,
Pagans,
Terry Callier,
The Victims,
Deepchord,
Sam Rivers,
Jacob Miller,
Black Pus,
Faraquet,
Mission of Burma,
Tropical Tobacco,
Warren Ellis,
Jawbox,
Y Pants,
Janne Schatter,
The Beau Brummels,
DJ Style,
Derrick Morgan,
Theoretical Girls,
Mad Mike,
The Neon Judgement,
Visage,
The Happenings,
The Stooges,
Johnny Osbourne,
Nation of Ulysses,
David Bowie,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Robert Hood,
The Black Dice,
The J.B.'s,
Pere Ubu,
Jeff Mills,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Fugazi,
Pussy Galore,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Donald Byrd,
Lakeside,
Harry Pussy,
David McCallum,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.