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 Morocco and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Moby Grape to the rock 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 Minor Threat. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cal Tjader,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Eve St. Jones,
The Fortunes,
Make Up,
The Count Five,
Nas,
Johnny Clarke,
X-101,
Mantronix,
Black Sheep,
Albert Ayler,
Skarface,
Wolf Eyes,
Deadbeat,
Suicide,
Scott Walker,
Peter and Kerry,
One Last Wish,
X-Ray Spex,
the Association,
Marcia Griffiths,
Rites of Spring,
Gerry Rafferty,
Surgeon,
Swell Maps,
David Bowie,
Siglo XX,
Das Ding,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Beau Brummels,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Crispian St. Peters,
Drive Like Jehu,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sparks,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pere Ubu,
The Divine Comedy,
Buzzcocks,
kango's stein massive,
Rod Modell,
The Fire Engines,
Bluetip,
Crash Course in Science,
Dorothy Ashby,
Royal Trux,
The Buckinghams,
Freddie Wadling,
Vladislav Delay,
KRS-One,
Mr. Review,
Nirvana,
Amon Düül,
The Victims,
Little Man,
Radiohead,
The Shadows of Knight,
Skriet,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Mandrill,
FM Einheit,
8 Eyed Spy,
Barbara Tucker,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.