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 Estonia and from Manchester.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Last Poets to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All Bronski Beat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sunsets and Hearts 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Minutemen,
The Blackbyrds,
The Red Krayola,
Dennis Brown,
The Modern Lovers,
The Seeds,
Lyres,
The Misunderstood,
Jesper Dahlback,
X-101,
The Associates,
Soul Sonic Force,
Ohio Players,
Ronan,
Roxy Music,
Adolescents,
Quadrant,
the Swans,
Lakeside,
China Crisis,
The Moleskins,
The United States of America,
Second Layer,
Little Man,
Matthew Halsall,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Fire Engines,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bobby Sherman,
Siglo XX,
The Fuzztones,
Don Cherry,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Rosa Yemen,
Ultra Naté,
Slave,
The Human League,
Barrington Levy,
Blossom Toes,
John Lydon,
Terry Callier,
The Five Americans,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Interpol,
Visage,
Grandmaster Flash,
Quantec,
Henry Cow,
Au Pairs,
T. Rex,
Soft Machine,
The Motions,
Japan,
Von Mondo,
A Certain Ratio,
The Sonics,
Wasted Youth,
Nation of Ulysses,
Nils Olav,
Liliput,
Janne Schatter, Janne Schatter, Janne Schatter, Janne Schatter.
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.