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 Sweden and from Lagos.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the grunge 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 The Modern Lovers. All the underground hits.
All Sällskapet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every a-ha 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Near,
The Saints,
D'Angelo,
UT,
Barrington Levy,
Malaria!,
Metal Thangz,
The Real Kids,
Absolute Body Control,
The Techniques,
Brick,
T. Rex,
the Normal,
KRS-One,
The Move,
The Young Rascals,
Rites of Spring,
Marcia Griffiths,
the Fania All-Stars,
Hoover,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Pierre Henry,
B.T. Express,
Mandrill,
Wolf Eyes,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bluetip,
Aural Exciters,
The Flesh Eaters,
Max Romeo,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Vladislav Delay,
Kool Moe Dee,
Grandmaster Flash,
Dave Gahan,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Von Mondo,
Banda Bassotti,
LL Cool J,
Lee Hazlewood,
Radiohead,
Deakin,
The Gories,
China Crisis,
Rhythm & Sound,
Rod Modell,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Victims,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Monochrome Set,
Faraquet,
The Evens,
The Standells,
The Doors,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Eli Mardock,
Country Teasers,
Marshall Jefferson,
Television,
Crooked Eye,
Delta 5,
Byron Stingily,
Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman.
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.