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 Moldova and from Lagos.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 oboe 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 Chrome to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Con Funk Shun. All the underground hits.
All Rufus Thomas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Piero Umiliani record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Mills,
The Move,
Peter and Kerry,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Carl Craig,
Todd Rundgren,
Bobby Byrd,
Black Pus,
Wire,
The Last Poets,
Buzzcocks,
The American Breed,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jandek,
Pagans,
DJ Style,
China Crisis,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Alton Ellis,
Nick Fraelich,
Sonny Sharrock,
These Immortal Souls,
The Smoke,
Model 500,
Underground Resistance,
Funkadelic,
Junior Murvin,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Faust,
Bush Tetras,
Bob Dylan,
Terry Callier,
Oneida,
Marine Girls,
T. Rex,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Suicide,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Wings,
The Slits,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Newcleus,
Spoonie Gee,
Reagan Youth,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Gang Green,
Delta 5,
Morten Harket,
The Cure,
Duran Duran,
Barclay James Harvest,
Derrick Morgan,
The Toasters,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Symarip,
Nils Olav,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
John Cale,
June of 44,
The Searchers,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.