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 Korea North and from Sao Paulo.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 synthesizer 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 Japan to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Suburban Knight. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Count Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks 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?
Archie Shepp,
Simply Red,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Vogues,
Blake Baxter,
Smog,
Fear,
The Skatalites,
U.S. Maple,
Goldenarms,
Interpol,
The Cramps,
Gerry Rafferty,
T.S.O.L.,
The Dead C,
Suburban Knight,
Roy Ayers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Arab on Radar,
Andrew Hill,
Aural Exciters,
China Crisis,
The American Breed,
Heaven 17,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Nils Olav,
Franke,
Gong,
Boogie Down Productions,
Gastr Del Sol,
Scion,
The Moody Blues,
The Dirtbombs,
Radio Birdman,
Zapp,
World's Most,
The Human League,
The Slackers,
Bootsy Collins,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
A Certain Ratio,
Ponytail,
Au Pairs,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Marine Girls,
Crispy Ambulance,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Iggy Pop,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Banda Bassotti,
Arthur Verocai,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Red Krayola,
Warsaw,
Hasil Adkins,
Jeff Mills,
Joy Division,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Dead Boys,
Malaria!,
Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound.
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.