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 Ghana and from Winnipeg.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Calgary.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the guitar 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 Charles Mingus to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Nils Olav tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott Heron,
Skaos,
Blake Baxter,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Skriet,
Ken Boothe,
Prince Buster,
Cameo,
David McCallum,
Brick,
T.S.O.L.,
Supertramp,
Terry Callier,
Eden Ahbez,
The Star Department,
Roy Ayers,
The Doors,
Aloha Tigers,
The Fugs,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Residents,
Minnie Riperton,
Little Man,
Donny Hathaway,
Bush Tetras,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Fatback Band,
The Monks,
Camouflage,
Joe Smooth,
Sarah Menescal,
Lindisfarne,
Althea and Donna,
The Searchers,
Lou Reed,
Los Fastidios,
Pulsallama,
Be Bop Deluxe,
ABBA,
Pierre Henry,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pussy Galore,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Eric Copeland,
Severed Heads,
Joy Division,
The Move,
Susan Cadogan,
the Bar-Kays,
the Association,
Inner City,
Funky Four + One,
Sonny Sharrock,
Hasil Adkins,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Jesper Dahlback,
Jeff Lynne,
Faraquet,
Maurizio,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Tres Demented,
Aural Exciters,
Minor Threat,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.