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 Burkina and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Boogie Down Productions to the disco 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 The Mummies. All the underground hits.
All The Busters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every K-Klass record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
Stereo Dub,
The Beau Brummels,
Interpol,
Drive Like Jehu,
Con Funk Shun,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
T. Rex,
Big Daddy Kane,
Brothers Johnson,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Selecter,
Josef K,
Panda Bear,
Slick Rick,
Marc Almond,
Magma,
The Stooges,
X-102,
Patti Smith,
Wire,
Black Pus,
Ludus,
Radiohead,
ABC,
The Sonics,
D'Angelo,
Youth Brigade,
Moss Icon,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
CMW,
Oblivians,
Lalo Schifrin,
JFA,
Dave Gahan,
Peter and Kerry,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Velvet Underground,
Harry Pussy,
Glambeats Corp.,
Vladislav Delay,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ultra Naté,
Absolute Body Control,
Byron Stingily,
Second Layer,
Funky Four + One,
Theoretical Girls,
Mars,
Pere Ubu,
Bang On A Can,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Pharoah Sanders,
Jeru the Damaja,
Grandmaster Flash,
Pussy Galore,
Pagans,
Amon Düül,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters.
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.