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 United Kingdom and from Edmonton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Spokane.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Residents to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Warsaw. All the underground hits.
All Average White Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
LL Cool J,
Tubeway Army,
Severed Heads,
the Swans,
Index,
Ronan,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Pole,
Avey Tare,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Lower 48,
Jacques Brel,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Aural Exciters,
The Searchers,
Scion,
Monks,
Minny Pops,
Piero Umiliani,
The Star Department,
Sight & Sound,
Neu!,
James White and The Blacks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Bush Tetras,
Lucky Dragons,
Underground Resistance,
Circle Jerks,
Lakeside,
Arthur Verocai,
The Residents,
Gerry Rafferty,
48th St. Collective,
Blancmange,
The Mojo Men,
Heaven 17,
Stetsasonic,
Desert Stars,
Cecil Taylor,
Barry Ungar,
Make Up,
Brand Nubian,
Symarip,
The Dead C,
Terrestrial Tones,
Popol Vuh,
H. Thieme,
The Five Americans,
Fluxion,
the Normal,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ituana,
Kenny Larkin,
The Standells,
Faust,
Slick Rick,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ten City,
Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed.
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.