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 Gabon and from Sao Paulo.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Al Stewart to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Rufus Thomas. All the underground hits.
All Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Dual Sessions,
Joey Negro,
Gil Scott Heron,
Peter and Kerry,
Sandy B,
Cabaret Voltaire,
John Lydon,
Robert Görl,
B.T. Express,
Roxette,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Fire Engines,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Schoolly D,
Ice-T,
Magazine,
Scott Walker,
The Saints,
Adolescents,
Wings,
Skaos,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Blues Magoos,
The Victims,
Ornette Coleman,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Blancmange,
The Motions,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
John Foxx,
These Immortal Souls,
Procol Harum,
Ten City,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Steve Hackett,
Model 500,
Bronski Beat,
Can,
Bang On A Can,
Scrapy,
Deakin,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
David McCallum,
Nas,
Animal Collective,
Royal Trux,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Warsaw,
H. Thieme,
Lou Reed,
The Cure,
Depeche Mode,
Ronan,
Gang Green,
June of 44,
Fugazi,
Popol Vuh,
Deadbeat,
Q65,
Severed Heads,
Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade.
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.