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 Albania and from Woodstock.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 F. McDonald to the electroclash 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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All Scrapy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Bananas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Morten Harket record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James White and The Blacks,
Blancmange,
Nik Kershaw,
Arab on Radar,
Peter & Gordon,
Subhumans,
Sixth Finger,
David McCallum,
Darondo,
Rekid,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Index,
Cecil Taylor,
Index,
Alice Coltrane,
Mantronix,
Outsiders,
Flipper,
Underground Resistance,
Silicon Teens,
Nico,
The Young Rascals,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Mars,
Moebius,
Accadde A,
H. Thieme,
The Cowsills,
Soft Machine,
Black Sheep,
Pierre Henry,
Deakin,
Spandau Ballet,
The United States of America,
Eric Copeland,
Khruangbin,
Amon Düül II,
Sonny Sharrock,
Surgeon,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Slits,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
New York Dolls,
Hasil Adkins,
Dead Boys,
Blake Baxter,
Ice-T,
Minor Threat,
The Standells,
Unwound,
The Beau Brummels,
Pantytec,
The Last Poets,
Banda Bassotti,
Magazine,
Deepchord,
Donny Hathaway,
John Lydon,
Young Marble Giants,
Intrusion,
Delta 5, Delta 5, Delta 5, Delta 5.
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.