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 Nauru and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Marcia Griffiths. All the underground hits.
All The Searchers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Trumans Water 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camberwell Now,
Darondo,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Slackers,
Barry Ungar,
Scan 7,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lucky Dragons,
Stereo Dub,
Marine Girls,
Livin' Joy,
Crooked Eye,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Skarface,
Ludus,
Colin Newman,
FM Einheit,
The Fortunes,
Harry Pussy,
Mr. Review,
The Grass Roots,
The Cowsills,
Funkadelic,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Neon Judgement,
Thee Headcoats,
The Slits,
Kaleidoscope,
The Beau Brummels,
Eve St. Jones,
Trumans Water,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Index,
A Flock of Seagulls,
48th St. Collective,
The Doors,
Minny Pops,
Cal Tjader,
Panda Bear,
Niagra,
Rufus Thomas,
Avey Tare,
Siglo XX,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Second Layer,
Bobby Womack,
Young Marble Giants,
The Offenders,
Q65,
One Last Wish,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Rakim,
Accadde A,
Loose Ends,
Tom Boy,
Lakeside,
Max Romeo,
Sarah Menescal,
X-Ray Spex,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.