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 Niger and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 oboe 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 Hot Snakes to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lebanon Hanover. All the underground hits.
All A Certain Ratio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord 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 spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonic Youth,
Scientists,
Subhumans,
Crispian St. Peters,
Anthony Braxton,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Blues Magoos,
Andrew Hill,
Gabor Szabo,
Derrick Morgan,
Peter & Gordon,
The Leaves,
Bobby Byrd,
Country Teasers,
Fad Gadget,
Terry Callier,
Wings,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lungfish,
The Searchers,
La Düsseldorf,
Kerri Chandler,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ice-T,
The Toasters,
the Swans,
Lee Hazlewood,
Niagra,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Black Dice,
Japan,
Trumans Water,
Donny Hathaway,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sex Pistols,
K-Klass,
Mark Hollis,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Wally Richardson,
Ponytail,
The Real Kids,
Piero Umiliani,
The Music Machine,
The Beau Brummels,
Pierre Henry,
Rekid,
Negative Approach,
Urselle,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Swell Maps,
Boredoms,
Dead Boys,
The Red Krayola,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Sound,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Robert Görl,
Angry Samoans,
Jeru the Damaja,
Archie Shepp,
Franke,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.