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 Guatemala and from Jakarta.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Neon Judgement to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All T.S.O.L. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious Big And Bone Thugs 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joey Negro record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry Gold Smith,
L. Decosne,
Brick,
Wings,
Nik Kershaw,
Mary Jane Girls,
Gang Starr,
Parry Music,
Iggy Pop,
Nirvana,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Angry Samoans,
The Music Machine,
X-101,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Con Funk Shun,
Barry Ungar,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Lalo Schifrin,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Roger Hodgson,
Moby Grape,
Marine Girls,
Crispy Ambulance,
John Coltrane,
Minor Threat,
Jawbox,
Radiopuhelimet,
Minutemen,
Rod Modell,
Quantec,
Bang On A Can,
Main Source,
New Age Steppers,
Davy DMX,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Flipper,
Rekid,
Ituana,
the Germs,
Dennis Brown,
DJ Sneak,
Matthew Bourne,
Outsiders,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Grass Roots,
8 Eyed Spy,
R.M.O.,
The Cure,
Flash Fearless,
Cameo,
Lower 48,
Cluster,
Excepter,
The Saints,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.