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 Norway and from Copenhagen.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Charles Mingus to the funk 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 Sight & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Traffic Nightmare,
Talk Talk,
Boredoms,
Throbbing Gristle,
In Retrospect,
Amon Düül,
The Vogues,
The Monochrome Set,
Toni Rubio,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Flash Fearless,
Ronan,
Rekid,
Funky Four + One,
Bobby Sherman,
cv313,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lucky Dragons,
Gichy Dan,
Brass Construction,
The Offenders,
Porter Ricks,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ultra Naté,
Ituana,
Infiniti,
Mo-Dettes,
Warsaw,
Amon Düül II,
Danielle Patucci,
Swell Maps,
The Red Krayola,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Accadde A,
Man Parrish,
Clear Light,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ice-T,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Blues Magoos,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Angry Samoans,
The Detroit Cobras,
Henry Cow,
Bobby Womack,
The Fire Engines,
Yellowson,
E-Dancer,
Cybotron,
Juan Atkins,
New York Dolls,
The Invisible,
PIL,
Magazine,
Outsiders,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sandy B,
Robert Görl,
Magma,
The Moleskins,
Patti Smith,
David Bowie,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.