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 France and from Spokane.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Television Personalities to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All H. Thieme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every JFA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Enemy,
Marcia Griffiths,
Kenny Larkin,
8 Eyed Spy,
Drexciya,
Josef K,
K-Klass,
Glenn Branca,
Sällskapet,
Inner City,
The Fuzztones,
Marmalade,
Intrusion,
Byron Stingily,
Jacques Brel,
The Red Krayola,
T.S.O.L.,
Minor Threat,
The Vogues,
Nation of Ulysses,
Scientists,
Joe Smooth,
Maleditus Sound,
Colin Newman,
Barbara Tucker,
Man Parrish,
James White and The Blacks,
Wings,
The Angels of Light,
Malaria!,
Derrick Morgan,
Al Stewart,
The Buckinghams,
Tears for Fears,
Nirvana,
Joyce Sims,
Unwound,
Alice Coltrane,
Camouflage,
Bad Manners,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Invisible,
The Star Department,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Funky Four + One,
The Sound,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Siglo XX,
Negative Approach,
The Slits,
Aural Exciters,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Saccharine Trust,
Lou Christie,
Porter Ricks,
Oblivians,
Lower 48,
a-ha,
Traffic Nightmare,
Fugazi,
Quadrant,
The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs.
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.