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 Equatorial Guinea and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 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 Gong 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 Motions. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ralphi Rosario record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blues Magoos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kool Moe Dee,
Goldenarms,
Yazoo,
The Fortunes,
La Düsseldorf,
Oneida,
Flash Fearless,
Lalo Schifrin,
Japan,
Tim Buckley,
Johnny Clarke,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Procol Harum,
Sandy B,
Underground Resistance,
Darondo,
Mandrill,
The Selecter,
The Electric Prunes,
The Doobie Brothers,
Angry Samoans,
Todd Terry,
Donny Hathaway,
Adolescents,
Bad Manners,
Grandmaster Flash,
Half Japanese,
The Fall,
The Happenings,
Swell Maps,
Von Mondo,
Simply Red,
Kenny Larkin,
Easy Going,
Throbbing Gristle,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Thee Headcoats,
Heaven 17,
Henry Cow,
Moebius,
Aswad,
Lee Hazlewood,
Barrington Levy,
Wolf Eyes,
Sight & Sound,
Q65,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Suburban Knight,
Barry Ungar,
Moby Grape,
The New Christs,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rotary Connection,
The Slits,
Cluster,
The Monks,
Livin' Joy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
the Bar-Kays,
Marine Girls,
The Wake,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.