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 Ukraine and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the snare 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 The American Breed to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Essential Logic. All the underground hits.
All The Remains tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heavy D & The Boyz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerrie Biddell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Subhumans,
The Fugs,
the Slits,
Zapp,
Rod Modell,
Juan Atkins,
The J.B.'s,
Severed Heads,
Yellowson,
The Blackbyrds,
Amon Düül,
The United States of America,
Boz Scaggs,
Bobby Byrd,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bobby Sherman,
Aural Exciters,
Buzzcocks,
Technova,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Cameo,
The Fuzztones,
Sam Rivers,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ultimate Spinach,
Camberwell Now,
Dead Boys,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Hot Snakes,
Minutemen,
The Neon Judgement,
The Seeds,
Matthew Bourne,
Spoonie Gee,
Lou Christie,
Henry Cow,
Tears for Fears,
The Knickerbockers,
Stockholm Monsters,
Siglo XX,
Interpol,
Black Pus,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Robert Hood,
Quantec,
ABC,
DNA,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Second Layer,
Marmalade,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Isaac Hayes,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Scientists,
The Gun Club,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ohio Players,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Rites of Spring,
Jesper Dahlback,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Lalann,
Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel.
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.