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 Georgia and from Columbus.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Michael McDonald 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 DJ Style to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Arab on Radar. All the underground hits.
All The Velvet Underground tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slackers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scrapy,
Loose Ends,
Zero Boys,
H. Thieme,
Lyres,
Sun City Girls,
Archie Shepp,
the Soft Cell,
The Index,
In Retrospect,
the Association,
Harmonia,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Jacques Brel,
The Buckinghams,
AZ,
Eve St. Jones,
The Knickerbockers,
The Alarm Clocks,
Fear,
Morten Harket,
Fela Kuti,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Real Kids,
The Standells,
Amazonics,
Infiniti,
Los Fastidios,
Lindisfarne,
Surgeon,
The Beau Brummels,
Oblivians,
Avey Tare,
The Wake,
E-Dancer,
Gang Green,
The Count Five,
Steve Hackett,
Ice-T,
Gil Scott Heron,
Judy Mowatt,
L. Decosne,
Eli Mardock,
Unwound,
The Music Machine,
Babytalk,
Crash Course in Science,
The Black Dice,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Angels of Light,
Silicon Teens,
Lou Reed,
Desert Stars,
Grey Daturas,
The Move,
The Leaves,
Kenny Larkin,
Deakin,
Patti Smith,
Bill Near,
The Associates,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.