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 Israel and from Lagos.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Manchester.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Outsiders to the dance 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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dorothy Ashby record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cal Tjader,
The Fugs,
The Grass Roots,
Skaos,
Malaria!,
Archie Shepp,
Television Personalities,
Fat Boys,
Bob Dylan,
The Doobie Brothers,
Yazoo,
Sex Pistols,
Yaz,
Frankie Knuckles,
MDC,
Khruangbin,
Groovy Waters,
John Cale,
Marmalade,
Toni Rubio,
Boz Scaggs,
The Selecter,
the Slits,
Dave Gahan,
Black Pus,
Royal Trux,
Rekid,
Lower 48,
The Velvet Underground,
Wasted Youth,
David McCallum,
Crash Course in Science,
Arthur Verocai,
Charles Mingus,
Curtis Mayfield,
Porter Ricks,
Amazonics,
Lungfish,
The Techniques,
Absolute Body Control,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Tubeway Army,
Agitation Free,
The Cramps,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Ten City,
Laurel Aitken,
The Seeds,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Searchers,
Symarip,
The Barracudas,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Soulsonic Force,
Adolescents,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Gun Club,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Desert Stars,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Sound, The Sound, The Sound, The Sound.
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.