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 Peru and from Edmonton.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The Dead C 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 Normal. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drive Like Jehu,
The Red Krayola,
Lebanon Hanover,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
U.S. Maple,
Blossom Toes,
Michelle Simonal,
June Days,
Ornette Coleman,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ponytail,
Chris & Cosey,
Danielle Patucci,
Funky Four + One,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Gun Club,
Gong,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Eddi Front,
DNA,
Mars,
Erykah Badu,
Freddie Wadling,
Joe Smooth,
Alison Limerick,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Mr. Review,
Crash Course in Science,
Fugazi,
ABC,
Charles Mingus,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
JFA,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
the Slits,
Max Romeo,
Kayak,
Susan Cadogan,
10cc,
Colin Newman,
Organ,
Jeru the Damaja,
Carl Craig,
Dorothy Ashby,
Alice Coltrane,
Los Fastidios,
The Sound,
Reuben Wilson,
LL Cool J,
Harry Pussy,
Yaz,
Bob Dylan,
Con Funk Shun,
Kerrie Biddell,
R.M.O.,
Soft Machine,
Gang Gang Dance,
Subhumans,
Stiv Bators,
Andrew Hill,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.