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 Papua New Guinea and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 harpsichord 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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Germs. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris Corsano record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grey Daturas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonny Sharrock,
Deepchord,
Dennis Brown,
Stiv Bators,
Vainqueur,
Pet Shop Boys,
Radio Birdman,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Mandrill,
Cheater Slicks,
F. McDonald,
Angry Samoans,
Connie Case,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Toasters,
Tom Boy,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Gregory Isaacs,
KRS-One,
Danielle Patucci,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bauhaus,
Deadbeat,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Terry Callier,
Pantytec,
The Slits,
Deakin,
Max Romeo,
Jesper Dahlback,
Alison Limerick,
The Velvet Underground,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Gladiators,
Minutemen,
Massinfluence,
Flash Fearless,
MC5,
Ultimate Spinach,
Banda Bassotti,
Silicon Teens,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Wings,
the Bar-Kays,
The United States of America,
EPMD,
the Normal,
Ohio Players,
Marine Girls,
Los Fastidios,
Ice-T,
Amazonics,
Man Eating Sloth,
Blake Baxter,
Talk Talk,
Sandy B,
Scrapy,
Slick Rick,
The Cowsills,
Mantronix,
Darondo,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Nik Kershaw,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.