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 Liechtenstein and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 marimba 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 The Move to the jazz 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 Lonnie Liston Smith. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Bar-Kays record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a KRS-One record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slave,
Kool Moe Dee,
Laurel Aitken,
Connie Case,
Jandek,
Scion,
Dawn Penn,
The Residents,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Arcadia,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Hardrive,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Tom Boy,
The Five Americans,
The Toasters,
Q65,
Gang Gang Dance,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Cowsills,
The Gladiators,
Negative Approach,
Nation of Ulysses,
Von Mondo,
The Electric Prunes,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Procol Harum,
Sugar Minott,
Delta 5,
Moss Icon,
Wire,
Monks,
Joensuu 1685,
The Modern Lovers,
Kaleidoscope,
The Slackers,
Aswad,
Cabaret Voltaire,
B.T. Express,
the Swans,
Ice-T,
10cc,
Nirvana,
Black Flag,
Tears for Fears,
Roger Hodgson,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Tubeway Army,
Oblivians,
The Fugs,
The Fuzztones,
John Lydon,
Pere Ubu,
Deepchord,
Country Teasers,
Black Pus,
The Busters,
MDC,
Kas Product,
Excepter,
Hashim,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Los Fastidios,
Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers.
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.