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 Italy and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Black Flag to the techno 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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Judy Mowatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
The Black Dice,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Fire Engines,
Tommy Roe,
Agent Orange,
Goldenarms,
Black Flag,
Symarip,
The Index,
Sonic Youth,
Ultra Naté,
Mission of Burma,
The Searchers,
Lalann,
Donny Hathaway,
Urselle,
E-Dancer,
Dead Boys,
Wasted Youth,
Animal Collective,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
David Bowie,
Scratch Acid,
Make Up,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Babytalk,
Moss Icon,
The Sonics,
Brothers Johnson,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
the Germs,
Rekid,
Essential Logic,
Al Stewart,
Pere Ubu,
The Fall,
The Victims,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ronan,
Electric Prunes,
Marmalade,
Porter Ricks,
Loose Ends,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Erykah Badu,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pulsallama,
The Velvet Underground,
Technova,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Buckinghams,
Rites of Spring,
Public Image Ltd.,
Oblivians,
KRS-One,
The Selecter,
Ultimate Spinach,
Maurizio,
Sound Behaviour,
Tropical Tobacco,
Michelle Simonal,
Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav.
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.