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 Sweden and from Calgary.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 marimba 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 Los Fastidios to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stockholm Monsters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Stiv Bators,
La Düsseldorf,
Smog,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ornette Coleman,
Skriet,
Sällskapet,
Radio Birdman,
Slick Rick,
Los Fastidios,
The Golliwogs,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Walker Brothers,
Donny Hathaway,
Talk Talk,
Man Parrish,
Chrome,
Marvin Gaye,
Ponytail,
Black Pus,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Germs,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Techniques,
Section 25,
The Kinks,
Althea and Donna,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Q and Not U,
the Human League,
Ossler,
The Black Dice,
Bang On A Can,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lou Christie,
The Red Krayola,
The Fire Engines,
The Real Kids,
Au Pairs,
PIL,
Pagans,
The Beau Brummels,
Skarface,
the Association,
Panda Bear,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Grass Roots,
Deadbeat,
Swell Maps,
Marc Almond,
Camberwell Now,
Graham Central Station,
Yaz,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.