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 Macedonia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Manila.
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 snare 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 Jeff Lynne to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Minor Threat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
These Immortal Souls,
Hoover,
Surgeon,
10cc,
Wasted Youth,
Eurythmics,
The Skatalites,
David Axelrod,
The Doors,
Scientists,
Minnie Riperton,
Flamin' Groovies,
Skarface,
The Offenders,
Scrapy,
Sarah Menescal,
Tropical Tobacco,
U.S. Maple,
Rod Modell,
Pussy Galore,
Warren Ellis,
Spoonie Gee,
Monolake,
AZ,
Nils Olav,
Mo-Dettes,
The Fire Engines,
Eli Mardock,
Ronan,
The Selecter,
Howard Jones,
World's Most,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Kenny Larkin,
Duran Duran,
Carl Craig,
The Buckinghams,
Soft Cell,
Nas,
The Pop Group,
New Age Steppers,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Invisible,
Harmonia,
Pantytec,
Yusef Lateef,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Blues Magoos,
Aural Exciters,
Crispy Ambulance,
Michelle Simonal,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Hardrive,
Grey Daturas,
DNA,
Byron Stingily,
Con Funk Shun,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.