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 Kosovo and from Manila.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba 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 Connie Case to the grunge 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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boredoms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
Bad Manners,
Adolescents,
Blancmange,
Prince Buster,
Steve Hackett,
The Vogues,
Kas Product,
Desert Stars,
Radiopuhelimet,
Half Japanese,
Minny Pops,
The Happenings,
The Smiths,
Kayak,
Accadde A,
PIL,
Make Up,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Jesper Dahlback,
Terry Callier,
Girls At Our Best!,
Colin Newman,
Brick,
Sight & Sound,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Yellowson,
Jandek,
Skarface,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Slick Rick,
Silicon Teens,
Sonny Sharrock,
Man Parrish,
Liliput,
John Holt,
the Swans,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Alphaville,
Pussy Galore,
Pylon,
Patti Smith,
The Gap Band,
Livin' Joy,
The Angels of Light,
Reagan Youth,
Joe Smooth,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Newcleus,
The Fuzztones,
Zero Boys,
Loose Ends,
Amon Düül,
Goldenarms,
Slave,
Swell Maps,
kango's stein massive,
Simply Red,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.