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 Swaziland and from Woodstock.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Gun Club to the rock 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 Parry Music. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ralphi Rosario 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 mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Walker Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Excepter,
T. Rex,
Shuggie Otis,
Absolute Body Control,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Loose Ends,
Surgeon,
The Misunderstood,
Procol Harum,
F. McDonald,
Con Funk Shun,
Lou Christie,
Toni Rubio,
Minutemen,
Outsiders,
Warren Ellis,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lalann,
Soft Cell,
The Kinks,
Dead Boys,
Spandau Ballet,
D'Angelo,
Glenn Branca,
The Raincoats,
Eddi Front,
Main Source,
Unwound,
Swans,
The Associates,
Eric Copeland,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Quadrant,
Lower 48,
The Flesh Eaters,
Kas Product,
Whodini,
Fear,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Henry Cow,
David Bowie,
Hot Snakes,
Gong,
The Names,
Ituana,
Lyres,
ABC,
the Slits,
Zapp,
The Modern Lovers,
Nils Olav,
Barclay James Harvest,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Cameo,
New Order,
Joyce Sims,
Cymande,
The Dave Clark Five,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
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.