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 Mongolia 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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the snare 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 The Offenders to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Smiths. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wally Richardson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Davy DMX record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Absolute Body Control,
Essential Logic,
Subhumans,
Anakelly,
Guru Guru,
Deepchord,
Theoretical Girls,
Gong,
Slick Rick,
Fela Kuti,
Ornette Coleman,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Minutemen,
Marine Girls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Litter,
Grandmaster Flash,
Echospace,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
EPMD,
Lou Reed,
Infiniti,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Vainqueur,
Rekid,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Suicide,
The Stooges,
Wally Richardson,
Simply Red,
The Velvet Underground,
The Associates,
F. McDonald,
CMW,
X-102,
John Coltrane,
Mo-Dettes,
DJ Sneak,
Stockholm Monsters,
Eli Mardock,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Byron Stingily,
Juan Atkins,
Pantytec,
Jeru the Damaja,
Susan Cadogan,
Black Bananas,
Rufus Thomas,
Sparks,
The Gladiators,
Das Ding,
Laurel Aitken,
Isaac Hayes,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Leaves,
Donny Hathaway,
DNA,
The Kinks,
Pulsallama,
Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger.
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.