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 Egypt and from Salvador.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Swans to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Minny Pops. All the underground hits.
All Todd Terry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Grey Daturas,
Gastr Del Sol,
DNA,
The Dead C,
The Trojans,
Depeche Mode,
Arab on Radar,
Neu!,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Wake,
Crash Course in Science,
Severed Heads,
Matthew Bourne,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Misunderstood,
The Black Dice,
Maurizio,
Scientists,
ABC,
Pole,
Joe Finger,
Yazoo,
Delta 5,
The Toasters,
R.M.O.,
the Germs,
Laurel Aitken,
The Gun Club,
The Slackers,
Nick Fraelich,
The Shadows of Knight,
Soft Machine,
Neil Young,
Crime,
Agent Orange,
Vladislav Delay,
ABBA,
Rakim,
Funkadelic,
The Zeros,
Ultravox,
Adolescents,
Eurythmics,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Popol Vuh,
Rufus Thomas,
Bootsy Collins,
Man Eating Sloth,
Roger Hodgson,
The Skatalites,
Funky Four + One,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Susan Cadogan,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Crooked Eye,
Fugazi,
Mark Hollis,
In Retrospect,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Dark Day,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.