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 Belarus and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 marimba 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 Marshall Jefferson to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Bad Manners. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gap Band 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Easy Going record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Scrapy,
Lightning Bolt,
Terry Callier,
E-Dancer,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
the Germs,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Deadbeat,
Bob Dylan,
Robert Hood,
Barbara Tucker,
Scan 7,
Zero Boys,
Minutemen,
Thompson Twins,
The Saints,
48th St. Collective,
Junior Murvin,
The Offenders,
K-Klass,
Loose Ends,
Buzzcocks,
Sparks,
The Birthday Party,
Patti Smith,
The Happenings,
These Immortal Souls,
Second Layer,
Alice Coltrane,
Robert Wyatt,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Derrick Morgan,
Moby Grape,
Grey Daturas,
China Crisis,
Sexual Harrassment,
Johnny Osbourne,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Real Kids,
Average White Band,
The Fire Engines,
Peter and Kerry,
Stetsasonic,
The Residents,
Radio Birdman,
Q and Not U,
The Moody Blues,
The Angels of Light,
Trumans Water,
Boredoms,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Star Department,
Vainqueur,
Warsaw,
Pulsallama,
Rhythm & Sound,
Mr. Review,
ABBA,
Magazine,
Kerrie Biddell,
Metal Thangz,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.