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 Guatemala and from Bologna.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Salvador.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Hoover to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Soft Machine. All the underground hits.
All Public Image Ltd. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Trumans Water,
Ituana,
Eurythmics,
Groovy Waters,
Iggy Pop,
Cal Tjader,
EPMD,
Ken Boothe,
Donald Byrd,
T.S.O.L.,
The Move,
The Seeds,
Loose Ends,
E-Dancer,
The Last Poets,
Smog,
The Tremeloes,
The Trojans,
K-Klass,
Neu!,
The Smoke,
Swans,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Minutemen,
Aswad,
Graham Central Station,
The Evens,
Outsiders,
Gregory Isaacs,
B.T. Express,
Bang On A Can,
Bronski Beat,
The Stooges,
Inner City,
Aaron Thompson,
Animal Collective,
The Blackbyrds,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sex Pistols,
Spandau Ballet,
John Foxx,
Minny Pops,
Lou Reed,
Stiv Bators,
Chrome,
X-Ray Spex,
Joe Smooth,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Yaz,
Nik Kershaw,
Can,
Althea and Donna,
Flamin' Groovies,
Robert Görl,
DNA,
Lightning Bolt,
Steve Hackett,
Mad Mike,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Blues Magoos,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.