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 East Timor and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 oboe 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 Quando Quango to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kurtis Blow,
Magma,
Sexual Harrassment,
Fat Boys,
Lalann,
Glambeats Corp.,
Yaz,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lou Reed,
The Real Kids,
The Remains,
June Days,
Unwound,
The Trojans,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Litter,
Intrusion,
H. Thieme,
Scientists,
Minor Threat,
Newcleus,
Hot Snakes,
Animal Collective,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Saccharine Trust,
Von Mondo,
the Human League,
Soulsonic Force,
Cymande,
X-101,
MC5,
Black Bananas,
Albert Ayler,
Bootsy Collins,
Barbara Tucker,
Negative Approach,
The Martian,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gastr Del Sol,
Gang Starr,
Radiopuhelimet,
Drive Like Jehu,
Loose Ends,
Alice Coltrane,
The Mummies,
UT,
Reagan Youth,
Dave Gahan,
Rufus Thomas,
Audionom,
Oneida,
The Star Department,
The Electric Prunes,
Yusef Lateef,
Man Parrish,
The Saints,
Marc Almond,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ten City,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep.
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.