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 Andorra and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The Techniques to the grunge 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 Public Image Ltd.. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry Gold Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hashim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
Sex Pistols,
Barbara Tucker,
Kevin Saunderson,
Derrick Morgan,
Arab on Radar,
Ituana,
The Zeros,
Kayak,
Vainqueur,
Bobby Sherman,
The Martian,
Piero Umiliani,
MDC,
Terrestrial Tones,
Oblivians,
Hasil Adkins,
FM Einheit,
Tomorrow,
T. Rex,
Radiohead,
Royal Trux,
Liliput,
Soft Machine,
The Misunderstood,
Lucky Dragons,
Schoolly D,
Suicide,
Ronan,
F. McDonald,
Lebanon Hanover,
Arcadia,
Monks,
Flash Fearless,
Barry Ungar,
Interpol,
Juan Atkins,
The Moody Blues,
Bill Wells,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Barracudas,
Mark Hollis,
Motorama,
The Slits,
Lightning Bolt,
Mad Mike,
Adolescents,
The Grass Roots,
New Age Steppers,
Joe Smooth,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Star Department,
Minnie Riperton,
Banda Bassotti,
Animal Collective,
Little Man,
Eli Mardock,
Brothers Johnson,
Andrew Hill,
The Names,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.