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 Afghanistan and from Calgary.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Lebanon Hanover to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
The Divine Comedy,
Cheater Slicks,
The Last Poets,
Robert Görl,
The J.B.'s,
Minutemen,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
DJ Style,
Reuben Wilson,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Anakelly,
Khruangbin,
Royal Trux,
Suicide,
X-101,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Moss Icon,
Cluster,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Alarm Clocks,
Nils Olav,
Smog,
Sarah Menescal,
June Days,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Gun Club,
Oblivians,
Blancmange,
Janne Schatter,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Scrapy,
Boogie Down Productions,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Music Machine,
Prince Buster,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Scratch Acid,
Cal Tjader,
Bauhaus,
Mad Mike,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Connie Case,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Rod Modell,
Fat Boys,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Surgeon,
Sandy B,
These Immortal Souls,
Das Ding,
The Doors,
The Victims,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Moody Blues,
Pylon,
Yellowson,
Bootsy Collins,
Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot.
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.