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 Equatorial Guinea and from Delhi.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Cairo.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Second Layer to the rap 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 Soul II Soul. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
Lindisfarne,
Goldenarms,
Harpers Bizarre,
Tim Buckley,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Magazine,
Gang Starr,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Section 25,
Sällskapet,
Tears for Fears,
Fugazi,
Chris & Cosey,
Nas,
Technova,
The Selecter,
Bauhaus,
The Moleskins,
The Doors,
Tom Boy,
Warren Ellis,
F. McDonald,
Severed Heads,
Fluxion,
Bobby Sherman,
Big Daddy Kane,
Flamin' Groovies,
Rakim,
Massinfluence,
Gong,
The Detroit Cobras,
Chris Corsano,
Sex Pistols,
Sonic Youth,
Mark Hollis,
Rites of Spring,
The Invisible,
The J.B.'s,
Skarface,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Crash Course in Science,
The Skatalites,
Crispy Ambulance,
Faust,
The Alarm Clocks,
Andrew Hill,
Rekid,
Harry Pussy,
Y Pants,
Tres Demented,
The Count Five,
Spoonie Gee,
Max Romeo,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
New Order,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Unwound,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Black Pus,
FM Einheit,
The Beau Brummels,
The Slits,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.