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 Greece 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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 theremin 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 Bobby Womack to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Gap Band. All the underground hits.
All Basic Channel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Mad Mike,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gang Gang Dance,
B.T. Express,
Sonic Youth,
The Martian,
Crooked Eye,
Dead Boys,
Robert Hood,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bauhaus,
Fear,
The Black Dice,
Charles Mingus,
T.S.O.L.,
Andrew Hill,
Grey Daturas,
Smog,
Guru Guru,
Marmalade,
Ten City,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Das Ding,
Robert Görl,
Dennis Brown,
Bush Tetras,
Funkadelic,
Brand Nubian,
MDC,
Crispian St. Peters,
AZ,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Litter,
The Mojo Men,
Jeru the Damaja,
Black Bananas,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Selecter,
The Stooges,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Nick Fraelich,
Chrome,
the Soft Cell,
The Flesh Eaters,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Wings,
Al Stewart,
Gong,
Nils Olav,
Eric Dolphy,
The Alarm Clocks,
Michelle Simonal,
The Barracudas,
Zapp,
The Standells,
Circle Jerks,
Mars,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Intrusion,
Traffic Nightmare,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Evens, The Evens, The Evens, The Evens.
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.