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 Uganda and from Mumbai.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Amazonics to the grunge 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 China Crisis. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Juan Atkins,
The Doors,
The Toasters,
Frankie Knuckles,
Susan Cadogan,
June Days,
Trumans Water,
Albert Ayler,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
EPMD,
Model 500,
Rosa Yemen,
Swell Maps,
ABBA,
The Walker Brothers,
T.S.O.L.,
Rites of Spring,
The Last Poets,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Moby Grape,
Eve St. Jones,
Negative Approach,
Gichy Dan,
Black Pus,
The Index,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Dave Clark Five,
Cheater Slicks,
Cybotron,
Magma,
Letta Mbulu,
Boogie Down Productions,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gang Green,
UT,
Brothers Johnson,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Divine Comedy,
The Music Machine,
Liliput,
Von Mondo,
Rhythm & Sound,
U.S. Maple,
Kayak,
Thee Headcoats,
Neil Young,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
DNA,
Radio Birdman,
Sight & Sound,
Judy Mowatt,
Bush Tetras,
Kaleidoscope,
The Durutti Column,
Deadbeat,
X-101,
The Raincoats,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Zeros,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk.
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.