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 Marshall Islands 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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Madrid.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Matthew Bourne to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Slits. All the underground hits.
All Peter & Gordon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Young Rascals 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lucky Dragons record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Lightning Bolt,
The Zeros,
MC5,
Magazine,
Joy Division,
8 Eyed Spy,
Johnny Clarke,
The Flesh Eaters,
Scott Walker,
The Knickerbockers,
Bobby Womack,
Mantronix,
Pere Ubu,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Saints,
Urselle,
K-Klass,
Absolute Body Control,
Crispian St. Peters,
Dave Gahan,
Severed Heads,
Ultra Naté,
Althea and Donna,
The Doobie Brothers,
Brass Construction,
Echospace,
Second Layer,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
ABC,
The Residents,
The Smiths,
Tropical Tobacco,
Alton Ellis,
The Associates,
The Index,
Suicide,
F. McDonald,
Wire,
Sound Behaviour,
Lakeside,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Grandmaster Flash,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Young Marble Giants,
Harry Pussy,
Brand Nubian,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Guru Guru,
The Pop Group,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Porter Ricks,
Masters at Work,
Neil Young,
Pagans,
The Five Americans,
Lindisfarne,
Girls At Our Best!,
Audionom,
Matthew Bourne,
The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds.
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.