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 Micronesia and from Houston.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 güiro 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 Gang Green to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
Stockholm Monsters,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Vainqueur,
Aloha Tigers,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Matthew Bourne,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Black Pus,
Simply Red,
Bill Near,
Jerry's Kids,
The Leaves,
Hot Snakes,
Monks,
Faust,
Khruangbin,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Wings,
Yazoo,
Drexciya,
Stiv Bators,
Thee Headcoats,
Visage,
Wolf Eyes,
Deadbeat,
L. Decosne,
Metal Thangz,
Dave Gahan,
The Cure,
Graham Central Station,
Michelle Simonal,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Techniques,
The Residents,
Boredoms,
Black Moon,
Thompson Twins,
Severed Heads,
Pierre Henry,
Motorama,
Hardrive,
Silicon Teens,
Echospace,
John Foxx,
The Gun Club,
X-101,
Leonard Cohen,
Suicide,
The Star Department,
Porter Ricks,
Robert Görl,
The Fortunes,
Jandek,
The Index,
Amazonics,
Howard Jones,
The Black Dice,
MDC,
Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II.
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.