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 Djibouti and from Jakarta.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 harpsichord 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 Monks to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 DNA. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Mills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brick 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Freddie Wadling record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Bob Dylan,
Ten City,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Seeds,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Pylon,
Ken Boothe,
Sam Rivers,
T.S.O.L.,
The Angels of Light,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Offenders,
Slave,
Gregory Isaacs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Nik Kershaw,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Dead C,
James White and The Blacks,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
the Slits,
Oblivians,
Letta Mbulu,
Angry Samoans,
Black Pus,
Vladislav Delay,
Make Up,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Bill Wells,
Wolf Eyes,
Magma,
Byron Stingily,
Eve St. Jones,
Lightning Bolt,
Subhumans,
The Young Rascals,
Aaron Thompson,
Accadde A,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Electric Prunes,
Flamin' Groovies,
Funky Four + One,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Stiv Bators,
Y Pants,
Pierre Henry,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Circle Jerks,
Roy Ayers,
Chrome,
8 Eyed Spy,
Liliput,
Bronski Beat,
The Doobie Brothers,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
cv313,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Amon Düül II,
The Trojans,
Carl Craig,
the Soft Cell,
Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, Yaz.
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.