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 Kyrgyzstan and from Lille.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Nation of Ulysses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skarface 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacob Miller record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Five Americans,
Fat Boys,
Harry Pussy,
Agent Orange,
Man Eating Sloth,
Panda Bear,
Scratch Acid,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
EPMD,
John Cale,
Boz Scaggs,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Radiohead,
The Names,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Tim Buckley,
Visage,
Warsaw,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
the Germs,
Sixth Finger,
James White and The Blacks,
Pere Ubu,
Sound Behaviour,
Ossler,
Gichy Dan,
Jerry's Kids,
Barclay James Harvest,
Amon Düül II,
Jandek,
Aloha Tigers,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pantytec,
Groovy Waters,
DNA,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Walker Brothers,
The Knickerbockers,
Nick Fraelich,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Residents,
Traffic Nightmare,
Alison Limerick,
Bang On A Can,
Dark Day,
Amazonics,
Kenny Larkin,
The Selecter,
Avey Tare,
The Searchers,
Iggy Pop,
Scion,
Scrapy,
Don Cherry,
In Retrospect,
Black Pus,
Motorama,
Royal Trux,
Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke.
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.