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 Ivory Coast and from Tehran.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 New York Dolls to the funk 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 Terrestrial Tones. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swell Maps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
The Residents,
Sun Ra,
CMW,
Mr. Review,
The Electric Prunes,
Sex Pistols,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Qualms,
Jawbox,
X-101,
Jimmy McGriff,
Deepchord,
Henry Cow,
Joe Smooth,
The Seeds,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Sight & Sound,
Black Pus,
The Martian,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Big Daddy Kane,
Royal Trux,
Max Romeo,
David McCallum,
Surgeon,
The Sonics,
Black Sheep,
Pulsallama,
Echospace,
Crime,
Visage,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Music Machine,
Sam Rivers,
Slave,
Robert Wyatt,
The Move,
Cluster,
Andrew Hill,
X-Ray Spex,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sexual Harrassment,
Avey Tare,
Metal Thangz,
Dead Boys,
Lee Hazlewood,
Laurel Aitken,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Selecter,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Unwound,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Evens,
Pere Ubu,
Severed Heads,
a-ha,
Moby Grape,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Fire Engines,
Roy Ayers,
Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science.
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.