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 Chile and from Beijing.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Agent Orange to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Au Pairs. All the underground hits.
All Spandau Ballet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxy Music record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Residents,
Man Eating Sloth,
Charles Mingus,
Deadbeat,
Ituana,
The Gladiators,
Loose Ends,
Bush Tetras,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Massinfluence,
The Music Machine,
Sonic Youth,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Magma,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Saints,
The Walker Brothers,
The Victims,
The Modern Lovers,
Quadrant,
Bill Wells,
Agent Orange,
Supertramp,
The Grass Roots,
the Slits,
Warsaw,
Cecil Taylor,
Bad Manners,
David Axelrod,
Wire,
Traffic Nightmare,
Index,
Hardrive,
Joy Division,
X-Ray Spex,
Pulsallama,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Groovy Waters,
The Velvet Underground,
Warren Ellis,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Associates,
New Order,
The Standells,
Marshall Jefferson,
Crispy Ambulance,
F. McDonald,
Johnny Clarke,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Babytalk,
Drexciya,
Niagra,
Junior Murvin,
the Sonics,
Jerry's Kids,
Henry Cow,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Nico,
Television,
Fat Boys,
Thompson Twins,
Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese.
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.