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 Japan and from Mumbai.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the sitar 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 Charles Mingus to the grunge 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 Sugar Minott. All the underground hits.
All Sonic Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fifty Foot Hose record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hoover record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Absolute Body Control,
Angry Samoans,
Sex Pistols,
FM Einheit,
Nation of Ulysses,
Basic Channel,
Animal Collective,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sarah Menescal,
Deepchord,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
MDC,
Ponytail,
Dead Boys,
Kas Product,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Chris Corsano,
The Star Department,
Morten Harket,
Marine Girls,
The Durutti Column,
Marvin Gaye,
Vainqueur,
Country Teasers,
Whodini,
L. Decosne,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Qualms,
Cluster,
Hardrive,
The Raincoats,
Erykah Badu,
the Germs,
Flash Fearless,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pulsallama,
Skriet,
Freddie Wadling,
Kool Moe Dee,
Joensuu 1685,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Slick Rick,
Joy Division,
Buzzcocks,
The Misunderstood,
U.S. Maple,
Wings,
Pole,
Oneida,
Ohio Players,
Carl Craig,
Bluetip,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Piero Umiliani,
Lightning Bolt,
Barbara Tucker,
Maleditus Sound,
Eddi Front,
Yaz,
48th St. Collective, 48th St. Collective, 48th St. Collective, 48th St. Collective.
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.