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 Guyana and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 808 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 Associates to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Theoretical Girls. All the underground hits.
All Accadde A tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June of 44 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ohio Players record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
The Motions,
Eric B and Rakim,
Max Romeo,
Joy Division,
Urselle,
Prince Buster,
The Human League,
The Litter,
Tears for Fears,
Rapeman,
Pagans,
The Move,
Y Pants,
Deakin,
The Sonics,
Reuben Wilson,
PIL,
Matthew Bourne,
Icehouse,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Raincoats,
Sound Behaviour,
Lower 48,
The Cure,
The Martian,
Carl Craig,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Mojo Men,
Hoover,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Lightning Bolt,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Mission of Burma,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Masters at Work,
Roy Ayers,
Wings,
Mad Mike,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Archie Shepp,
Make Up,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Youth Brigade,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Flesh Eaters,
Freddie Wadling,
The Dead C,
The J.B.'s,
R.M.O.,
Basic Channel,
Organ,
Radiohead,
The Alarm Clocks,
Connie Case,
Rod Modell,
Darondo,
Throbbing Gristle,
Barry Ungar,
Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy.
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.