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 Ethiopia and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Houston.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Crash Course in Science to the techno 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 Gang Gang Dance. All the underground hits.
All Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gastr Del Sol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Altered Images,
Bad Manners,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Amon Düül,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Sound,
Derrick May,
Bill Wells,
The Raincoats,
Junior Murvin,
Rotary Connection,
Max Romeo,
David Axelrod,
Kaleidoscope,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Happenings,
Malaria!,
The Cramps,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Jimmy McGriff,
Crime,
Howard Jones,
Marshall Jefferson,
Parry Music,
Chrome,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Eurythmics,
Dorothy Ashby,
FM Einheit,
OOIOO,
Echospace,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Martian,
Deadbeat,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ralphi Rosario,
Funkadelic,
Arab on Radar,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Residents,
Radiohead,
Robert Wyatt,
Neu!,
Drexciya,
Blossom Toes,
Brand Nubian,
Lakeside,
Amon Düül II,
Television Personalities,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Joyce Sims,
Brick,
Pantaleimon,
Average White Band,
Joy Division,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bootsy Collins,
Kayak,
Jandek,
Niagra,
Shoche,
The Smiths,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Yusef Lateef,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.