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 Tonga and from Bremen.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Lee Hazlewood to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Grandmaster Flash. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Circle Jerks 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Animal Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Oblivians,
Davy DMX,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
48th St. Collective,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Radiohead,
The Victims,
The Blackbyrds,
Dennis Brown,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Matthew Bourne,
Faraquet,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Marine Girls,
Lungfish,
Unrelated Segments,
Infiniti,
The Evens,
Eddi Front,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Dead Boys,
Moebius,
Ludus,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pylon,
Simply Red,
L. Decosne,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Faust,
DJ Sneak,
The Standells,
Loose Ends,
Laurel Aitken,
Talk Talk,
Minutemen,
Symarip,
The Last Poets,
Sällskapet,
The Pretty Things,
Black Moon,
Organ,
Barclay James Harvest,
Nation of Ulysses,
Negative Approach,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Angry Samoans,
Das Ding,
Franke,
Fugazi,
Maleditus Sound,
Ralphi Rosario,
Eric B and Rakim,
Technova,
Ohio Players,
Nico,
Von Mondo,
The Sonics,
David Bowie,
Bob Dylan,
Tim Buckley,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.