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 Egypt and from Stockholm.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the grunge 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 Avey Tare. All the underground hits.
All Nico tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Model 500 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 rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
London Community Gospel Choir,
Royal Trux,
Sister Nancy,
The Mummies,
Pagans,
Derrick May,
Fela Kuti,
Camouflage,
T.S.O.L.,
The Trojans,
Babytalk,
Heaven 17,
the Swans,
Agitation Free,
Amon Düül II,
Connie Case,
Flipper,
Desert Stars,
The Divine Comedy,
The Motions,
Susan Cadogan,
The Offenders,
Zero Boys,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Blake Baxter,
The Gladiators,
Neu!,
Bobby Byrd,
La Düsseldorf,
Deakin,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Masters at Work,
Drexciya,
Piero Umiliani,
Black Sheep,
Curtis Mayfield,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Black Pus,
Man Eating Sloth,
Niagra,
Little Man,
Fugazi,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Patti Smith,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Detroit Cobras,
Drive Like Jehu,
Aloha Tigers,
Tommy Roe,
Adolescents,
Gang Green,
David Bowie,
AZ,
Moby Grape,
Erasure,
Johnny Osbourne,
These Immortal Souls,
Brass Construction,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Motorama,
Supertramp,
Kaleidoscope,
Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T.
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.