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 El Salvador and from Jakarta.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Sexual Harrassment to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Sam Rivers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry Gold Smith 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rakim,
The Last Poets,
Dawn Penn,
Zapp,
Delta 5,
Albert Ayler,
Deepchord,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Divine Comedy,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Doors,
The Slits,
Lungfish,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ken Boothe,
Barrington Levy,
Lakeside,
Reagan Youth,
Bill Near,
the Normal,
Pantaleimon,
Pere Ubu,
Q and Not U,
F. McDonald,
The Music Machine,
Kevin Saunderson,
Idris Muhammad,
Laurel Aitken,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Suburban Knight,
Adolescents,
Lalann,
Inner City,
These Immortal Souls,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Dark Day,
The Dirtbombs,
Supertramp,
Gabor Szabo,
Jawbox,
Wally Richardson,
Sonic Youth,
Hashim,
Scratch Acid,
Eric B and Rakim,
Niagra,
Mad Mike,
Metal Thangz,
Robert Görl,
K-Klass,
Circle Jerks,
The Happenings,
The United States of America,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Unwound,
Angry Samoans,
Interpol,
Can,
Cheater Slicks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk.
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.