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 Russia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Bremen.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the sitar 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 Wasted Youth to the rock 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 Adolescents. All the underground hits.
All Malaria! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The J.B.'s record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rosa Yemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dorothy Ashby,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pussy Galore,
Boogie Down Productions,
Au Pairs,
David Bowie,
Susan Cadogan,
Qualms,
the Association,
Iggy Pop,
Rhythm & Sound,
Bauhaus,
Andrew Hill,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Can,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Doobie Brothers,
R.M.O.,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Angry Samoans,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Kayak,
Thee Headcoats,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Kool Moe Dee,
the Bar-Kays,
The Happenings,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Human League,
Goldenarms,
Quando Quango,
Crispy Ambulance,
Little Man,
Oneida,
Matthew Bourne,
Kurtis Blow,
Gong,
Con Funk Shun,
Leonard Cohen,
Rotary Connection,
The Leaves,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Hashim,
Moby Grape,
Nik Kershaw,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lungfish,
Stereo Dub,
The Misunderstood,
Soft Machine,
Pylon,
Slick Rick,
Blossom Toes,
The Gun Club,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Talk Talk,
Fela Kuti,
Aaron Thompson,
Letta Mbulu,
The Electric Prunes,
Albert Ayler,
John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane.
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.