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 Korea North and from Toronto.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Stiv Bators to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Bauhaus. All the underground hits.
All Monolake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry's Kids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
E-Dancer,
Bronski Beat,
Wally Richardson,
The Gun Club,
Piero Umiliani,
Stiv Bators,
the Germs,
Tropical Tobacco,
Metal Thangz,
L. Decosne,
The Searchers,
Barbara Tucker,
Juan Atkins,
Mars,
Bobby Sherman,
Nils Olav,
Fatback Band,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Tom Boy,
World's Most,
Gastr Del Sol,
Hardrive,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Knickerbockers,
Cluster,
Minutemen,
Siglo XX,
Donald Byrd,
The Divine Comedy,
Black Bananas,
Dawn Penn,
Sister Nancy,
Average White Band,
Michelle Simonal,
Gang Green,
Lungfish,
Clear Light,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Residents,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Monochrome Set,
Matthew Bourne,
The Seeds,
Thompson Twins,
Franke,
Marvin Gaye,
Con Funk Shun,
Matthew Halsall,
The Durutti Column,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Sound,
FM Einheit,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Easy Going,
Loose Ends,
Magazine,
Stockholm Monsters,
Byron Stingily,
Lebanon Hanover,
Lou Reed,
Rod Modell, Rod Modell, Rod Modell, Rod Modell.
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.