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 Australia and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Toasters to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Ornette Coleman. All the underground hits.
All Marcia Griffiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spandau Ballet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blackbyrds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sight & Sound,
Crime,
The Electric Prunes,
Trumans Water,
K-Klass,
Yaz,
a-ha,
The Standells,
Connie Case,
Crooked Eye,
Lyres,
Fatback Band,
Lou Reed,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Nas,
Boredoms,
Donny Hathaway,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Black Pus,
The New Christs,
Brothers Johnson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Average White Band,
The Doors,
Johnny Osbourne,
Blossom Toes,
D'Angelo,
Mantronix,
The Busters,
the Sonics,
Erasure,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Divine Comedy,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Buckinghams,
Althea and Donna,
Tres Demented,
Fat Boys,
The Modern Lovers,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Leonard Cohen,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Index,
Japan,
Alphaville,
Fluxion,
Al Stewart,
The Fugs,
Kas Product,
Negative Approach,
Gastr Del Sol,
Icehouse,
Black Moon,
Grandmaster Flash,
Animal Collective,
Bobby Sherman,
Cluster,
Minny Pops,
Jeff Mills,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
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.