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 El Salvador and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the marimba 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 Eli Mardock to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Can. All the underground hits.
All Urselle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mojo Men record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stetsasonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amazonics,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Angels of Light,
Country Joe & The Fish,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ken Boothe,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Urselle,
Youth Brigade,
Dual Sessions,
Supertramp,
Delon & Dalcan,
Reuben Wilson,
Lucky Dragons,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ultravox,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Fatback Band,
Cal Tjader,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Oblivians,
Scion,
The Gladiators,
Albert Ayler,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Joey Negro,
Lungfish,
DJ Sneak,
Mo-Dettes,
Gang Gang Dance,
Babytalk,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Five Americans,
Bobby Sherman,
Bill Wells,
Minutemen,
The Names,
Radio Birdman,
Wasted Youth,
Jacques Brel,
Con Funk Shun,
Angry Samoans,
Eric Copeland,
The Cramps,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Sexual Harrassment,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Index,
Chris & Cosey,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mission of Burma,
Porter Ricks,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pussy Galore,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sparks,
Liliput,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav.
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.