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 Shanghai.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Lightning Bolt to the grime 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 Organ. All the underground hits.
All Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rahsaan Roland Kirk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heavy D & The Boyz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Maleditus Sound,
Vladislav Delay,
Frankie Knuckles,
Wings,
Joe Finger,
Junior Murvin,
The Angels of Light,
The Wake,
Tommy Roe,
Maurizio,
Marshall Jefferson,
Black Moon,
Gregory Isaacs,
EPMD,
Swell Maps,
Bizarre Inc.,
Tom Boy,
Scan 7,
DJ Sneak,
La Düsseldorf,
PIL,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Fat Boys,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Organ,
The Alarm Clocks,
the Bar-Kays,
Robert Hood,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Star Department,
Grey Daturas,
Jerry's Kids,
Country Teasers,
Aswad,
Monolake,
Index,
Grauzone,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Joy Division,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Victims,
The Fall,
Freddie Wadling,
Dawn Penn,
Bootsy Collins,
Harry Pussy,
Agent Orange,
Buzzcocks,
The Motions,
The Selecter,
Malaria!,
The Tremeloes,
Lakeside,
Eric Dolphy,
Audionom,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Outsiders,
Pere Ubu,
Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters.
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.