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 San Marino and from Columbus.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Hong Kong.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro 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 Stetsasonic to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Trojans. All the underground hits.
All Make Up tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Royal Trux record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Albert Ayler,
The Red Krayola,
The Count Five,
Johnny Clarke,
Derrick Morgan,
Pere Ubu,
Q65,
Crooked Eye,
Excepter,
Bush Tetras,
Massinfluence,
Hot Snakes,
The Raincoats,
Funkadelic,
The Neon Judgement,
China Crisis,
Joyce Sims,
Unrelated Segments,
The Knickerbockers,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Inner City,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Sonics,
The New Christs,
DNA,
Peter and Kerry,
Joey Negro,
Average White Band,
The Slackers,
The Star Department,
Terrestrial Tones,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Suburban Knight,
Sun City Girls,
Cheater Slicks,
Deakin,
Jeff Mills,
Half Japanese,
Country Joe & The Fish,
John Lydon,
Funky Four + One,
Echospace,
Oblivians,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Real Kids,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Talk Talk,
Magazine,
The Fire Engines,
The Fall,
Yazoo,
Colin Newman,
Lou Reed,
Eurythmics,
Rufus Thomas,
Lou Christie,
Sonny Sharrock,
James White and The Blacks,
The Blackbyrds,
Gabor Szabo,
Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army.
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.