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 Zimbabwe and from Bremen.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the crunk 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 The Standells. All the underground hits.
All Warsaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Grandmaster Flash,
Arthur Verocai,
Tom Boy,
Traffic Nightmare,
Aswad,
Soulsonic Force,
Fugazi,
Skarface,
The Real Kids,
Stetsasonic,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Darondo,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lee Hazlewood,
Tres Demented,
Connie Case,
Icehouse,
Thee Headcoats,
Minutemen,
Nick Fraelich,
MDC,
Gregory Isaacs,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Misunderstood,
The Selecter,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Stiv Bators,
Leonard Cohen,
Wolf Eyes,
Sixth Finger,
Reuben Wilson,
Infiniti,
Adolescents,
Marvin Gaye,
Susan Cadogan,
Minor Threat,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Andrew Hill,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Mo-Dettes,
Skaos,
Pussy Galore,
Sam Rivers,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Sonics,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Mummies,
Kurtis Blow,
Sonic Youth,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The United States of America,
Yaz,
Quando Quango,
Wally Richardson,
Lightning Bolt,
the Swans,
Los Fastidios,
Goldenarms,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.