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 Solomon Islands and from Portland.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Philadelphia.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the 808 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 James White and The Blacks to the grunge 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 Darondo. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every OOIOO 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joy Division record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Move,
The Five Americans,
Tubeway Army,
the Soft Cell,
Flamin' Groovies,
Average White Band,
Max Romeo,
Terry Callier,
Grauzone,
Freddie Wadling,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
DJ Sneak,
Sun City Girls,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Gregory Isaacs,
ABBA,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Tremeloes,
Blossom Toes,
R.M.O.,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Fugs,
Das Ding,
Index,
John Holt,
Schoolly D,
Silicon Teens,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Juan Atkins,
Depeche Mode,
Surgeon,
Lebanon Hanover,
Archie Shepp,
Terrestrial Tones,
the Normal,
Magazine,
Fluxion,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jacob Miller,
Minny Pops,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
June Days,
Urselle,
Jimmy McGriff,
Mark Hollis,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Fear,
Skriet,
Boogie Down Productions,
T.S.O.L.,
Marc Almond,
KRS-One,
Dawn Penn,
Lou Reed,
Pole,
Country Teasers,
Wally Richardson,
Oneida,
ABC,
The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues.
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.