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 Vanuatu and from London.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Ralphi Rosario to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Ultravox. All the underground hits.
All Jacob Miller tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
Pere Ubu,
EPMD,
Gabor Szabo,
The Fugs,
The Shadows of Knight,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Last Poets,
Kenny Larkin,
Andrew Hill,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Techniques,
Man Eating Sloth,
Malaria!,
Boogie Down Productions,
Fear,
Moby Grape,
Jandek,
Wolf Eyes,
Excepter,
The Cramps,
Laurel Aitken,
Funky Four + One,
Rekid,
Sällskapet,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ossler,
Lindisfarne,
Rapeman,
The New Christs,
June of 44,
Tres Demented,
Bizarre Inc.,
Boredoms,
Black Sheep,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Zapp,
The Raincoats,
the Sonics,
The Durutti Column,
Outsiders,
Joey Negro,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Remains,
Robert Görl,
Slick Rick,
The Count Five,
John Foxx,
The Doors,
Hashim,
Curtis Mayfield,
DJ Sneak,
Public Enemy,
The Fire Engines,
The Associates,
Danielle Patucci,
Camouflage,
The Cure,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Freddie Wadling,
the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars.
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.