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 Sweden and from Lagos.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Manila.
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 theremin 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Gun Club. All the underground hits.
All The Trojans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultramagnetic MC's record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mary Jane Girls,
Blancmange,
Warsaw,
Tomorrow,
Surgeon,
The Searchers,
Moebius,
DJ Style,
Minor Threat,
Gang Starr,
Pylon,
Rakim,
Malaria!,
Robert Wyatt,
Soulsonic Force,
Harmonia,
Andrew Hill,
E-Dancer,
Con Funk Shun,
Lebanon Hanover,
ABC,
Brick,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Suicide,
Mad Mike,
the Association,
Traffic Nightmare,
Josef K,
Steve Hackett,
Crispy Ambulance,
Scratch Acid,
Ken Boothe,
Wasted Youth,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Patti Smith,
Essential Logic,
Wally Richardson,
Neu!,
The United States of America,
Khruangbin,
Electric Prunes,
Franke,
Yellowson,
Negative Approach,
Joey Negro,
Judy Mowatt,
Barrington Levy,
Johnny Osbourne,
Oblivians,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Move,
Sonic Youth,
Kayak,
The Walker Brothers,
Soft Cell,
Matthew Halsall,
Kevin Saunderson,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282.
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.