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 Denmark and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the sitar 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 Ice-T to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Swans. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television Personalities record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barbara Tucker,
The Birthday Party,
The Walker Brothers,
Lungfish,
Liliput,
Barry Ungar,
Connie Case,
X-102,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Evens,
Bang On A Can,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Pierre Henry,
Marvin Gaye,
Oblivians,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Man Parrish,
Junior Murvin,
The Fugs,
The Five Americans,
Mantronix,
Barrington Levy,
In Retrospect,
Silicon Teens,
Lalo Schifrin,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Swans,
DNA,
Eddi Front,
The Beau Brummels,
Iggy Pop,
B.T. Express,
Throbbing Gristle,
R.M.O.,
The Martian,
Blake Baxter,
Nik Kershaw,
CMW,
Hoover,
The Fire Engines,
The Standells,
Dark Day,
Crooked Eye,
Lucky Dragons,
Rites of Spring,
Joy Division,
Soul Sonic Force,
Neu!,
Bill Wells,
Tim Buckley,
Johnny Clarke,
Arab on Radar,
Smog,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Star Department,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sparks,
The Invisible,
Maleditus Sound,
Kevin Saunderson,
Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen.
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.