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 Mali and from Shanghai.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Alison Limerick to the rap 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Black Flag tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thee Headcoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
Livin' Joy,
Bobby Womack,
The Cure,
the Normal,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Drexciya,
Amon Düül,
Grandmaster Flash,
Joyce Sims,
Junior Murvin,
Pantytec,
The Litter,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bang On A Can,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Fugs,
Roger Hodgson,
Das Ding,
Public Enemy,
Reuben Wilson,
Archie Shepp,
Kayak,
The Walker Brothers,
The Mummies,
Black Bananas,
The Electric Prunes,
the Human League,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Quantec,
Max Romeo,
Alison Limerick,
The Last Poets,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Scratch Acid,
Robert Görl,
The Modern Lovers,
Slick Rick,
James White and The Blacks,
Ponytail,
New York Dolls,
The Fire Engines,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Moleskins,
Liliput,
The New Christs,
Harpers Bizarre,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Brothers Johnson,
The Martian,
Sam Rivers,
Rites of Spring,
John Cale,
Icehouse,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
10cc,
Public Image Ltd.,
Minor Threat,
Sonic Youth,
Kevin Saunderson,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
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.