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 Nigeria and from Spokane.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Normal to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Neu!. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 rock 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 clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy's Rubber Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Chrome,
Agitation Free,
Brass Construction,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Ultramagnetic MC's,
DJ Sneak,
Absolute Body Control,
Crooked Eye,
FM Einheit,
Minnie Riperton,
Suburban Knight,
Mr. Review,
Severed Heads,
Tom Boy,
Monolake,
Talk Talk,
The Gun Club,
DNA,
Arab on Radar,
Avey Tare,
Black Moon,
Saccharine Trust,
Smog,
Donald Byrd,
Camouflage,
Scratch Acid,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Grandmaster Flash,
Patti Smith,
Terry Callier,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
R.M.O.,
Erykah Badu,
Wolf Eyes,
Charles Mingus,
Hashim,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Fortunes,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Evens,
The Gladiators,
Urselle,
Lalann,
Livin' Joy,
MDC,
Minor Threat,
Roxette,
Max Romeo,
The Dirtbombs,
Traffic Nightmare,
Electric Prunes,
Bobby Womack,
The Skatalites,
cv313,
Cecil Taylor,
Aural Exciters,
Robert Wyatt,
Dennis Brown,
Ohio Players,
The Fugs,
Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans.
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.