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 the UAE and from Salvador.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Amon Düül II to the grunge 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ken Boothe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Green,
Sex Pistols,
Alphaville,
Fear,
Reagan Youth,
Lakeside,
Fat Boys,
U.S. Maple,
Fela Kuti,
Drexciya,
Country Teasers,
Nas,
The Dirtbombs,
Porter Ricks,
Pet Shop Boys,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Moody Blues,
New Age Steppers,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Peter & Gordon,
John Coltrane,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Kerri Chandler,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Toni Rubio,
PIL,
Terry Callier,
The Saints,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Skaos,
Tommy Roe,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Modern Lovers,
Glambeats Corp.,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
A Flock of Seagulls,
La Düsseldorf,
The Searchers,
The Birthday Party,
Oneida,
Swans,
Letta Mbulu,
Silicon Teens,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Buzzcocks,
Bobby Sherman,
Hasil Adkins,
Stiv Bators,
Theoretical Girls,
Rosa Yemen,
Albert Ayler,
The Five Americans,
Don Cherry,
Mad Mike,
Lungfish,
Bill Wells,
Thee Headcoats,
Leonard Cohen,
KRS-One,
MDC,
Barry Ungar,
Niagra,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.