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 Ivory Coast and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Tommy Roe to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 OOIOO. All the underground hits.
All The Standells 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 electroclash 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 sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rosa Yemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dorothy Ashby,
Bauhaus,
Franke,
Soft Machine,
June Days,
Simply Red,
F. McDonald,
Letta Mbulu,
Can,
a-ha,
Bootsy Collins,
The Shadows of Knight,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Mr. Review,
Roxette,
T.S.O.L.,
Mo-Dettes,
The Neon Judgement,
Drexciya,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Misunderstood,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Young Rascals,
Rhythm & Sound,
Magma,
Yaz,
Zero Boys,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Move,
The Beau Brummels,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Leaves,
Tommy Roe,
The Zeros,
Big Daddy Kane,
Young Marble Giants,
Mars,
T. Rex,
The Count Five,
New York Dolls,
The Cowsills,
The Evens,
David Axelrod,
The Residents,
Nik Kershaw,
Quadrant,
Blancmange,
Throbbing Gristle,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
E-Dancer,
The Happenings,
Joe Smooth,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Mummies,
EPMD,
Yusef Lateef,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Niagra,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
H. Thieme,
Neu!,
Dave Gahan,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.