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 Greece and from Tehran.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Toni Rubio to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All Soul Sonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Porter Ricks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mojo Men record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Roxy Music,
Wasted Youth,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kerri Chandler,
Gang Starr,
Royal Trux,
Sparks,
Rapeman,
Albert Ayler,
Barbara Tucker,
The Doors,
Swans,
R.M.O.,
Joey Negro,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Terrestrial Tones,
B.T. Express,
Young Marble Giants,
David Axelrod,
H. Thieme,
PIL,
Boogie Down Productions,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Nation of Ulysses,
Soft Machine,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Piero Umiliani,
Goldenarms,
Alison Limerick,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
48th St. Collective,
Drexciya,
Jerry's Kids,
Warren Ellis,
Gabor Szabo,
Clear Light,
Brothers Johnson,
Jimmy McGriff,
Black Moon,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Porter Ricks,
Rod Modell,
Tears for Fears,
Eli Mardock,
Brick,
Roger Hodgson,
Scion,
Janne Schatter,
Magma,
Nirvana,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Blues Magoos,
Oneida,
Main Source,
Soul II Soul,
Marine Girls,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Searchers,
Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen, Echo & the Bunnymen.
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.