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 Croatia and from London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the sitar 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 Throbbing Gristle to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Index. All the underground hits.
All Stetsasonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joey Negro record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Morten Harket,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Rites of Spring,
The Dead C,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ponytail,
10cc,
Sexual Harrassment,
Panda Bear,
Ludus,
Ultra Naté,
The Fugs,
Althea and Donna,
Howard Jones,
Darondo,
The Busters,
The Names,
Henry Cow,
Lakeside,
Saccharine Trust,
The Residents,
Barrington Levy,
Bad Manners,
Traffic Nightmare,
Zapp,
Cybotron,
OOIOO,
Johnny Osbourne,
Leonard Cohen,
Accadde A,
A Certain Ratio,
Roxy Music,
The Searchers,
Basic Channel,
The Vogues,
Wasted Youth,
Terry Callier,
Anakelly,
The Gories,
Whodini,
The Doobie Brothers,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Gap Band,
Rapeman,
Graham Central Station,
Visage,
Anthony Braxton,
Jandek,
Scrapy,
Girls At Our Best!,
EPMD,
JFA,
This Heat,
Crime,
Maurizio,
Kurtis Blow,
The Smiths,
Section 25,
Loose Ends,
World's Most, World's Most, World's Most, World's Most.
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.