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 Montenegro and from Sao Paulo.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Rekid to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Raincoats. All the underground hits.
All Aloha Tigers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fluxion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Banda Bassotti,
Gang Starr,
Monks,
Brand Nubian,
Alphaville,
Sun City Girls,
Marc Almond,
Arthur Verocai,
Desert Stars,
Gabor Szabo,
the Fania All-Stars,
Donny Hathaway,
Camberwell Now,
Wally Richardson,
The Associates,
E-Dancer,
Patti Smith,
Bill Near,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Country Teasers,
Prince Buster,
Radiohead,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
DJ Style,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pantytec,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Doobie Brothers,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Man Eating Sloth,
Amon Düül,
Pulsallama,
Fela Kuti,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Arab on Radar,
The Gap Band,
Brick,
Magma,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Red Krayola,
Y Pants,
Anthony Braxton,
Aswad,
Lightning Bolt,
Stetsasonic,
Pagans,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Dead Boys,
Masters at Work,
Boredoms,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Charles Mingus,
Sight & Sound,
Toni Rubio,
Monolake,
The Leaves,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Q and Not U,
Pere Ubu,
Todd Rundgren,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.