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 Uganda and from Shanghai.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 John Foxx to the rap 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu. All the underground hits.
All Black Pus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Das Ding record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marvin Gaye 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?
Banda Bassotti,
Wolf Eyes,
Stetsasonic,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Aural Exciters,
This Heat,
Amon Düül II,
Khruangbin,
The Smiths,
The Skatalites,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Leonard Cohen,
Panda Bear,
Trumans Water,
Grandmaster Flash,
Guru Guru,
Soft Machine,
Minor Threat,
B.T. Express,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Invisible,
Thee Headcoats,
Malaria!,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
the Association,
The Cowsills,
Icehouse,
Black Sheep,
Robert Wyatt,
Sonic Youth,
Glenn Branca,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ituana,
Janne Schatter,
Max Romeo,
The Leaves,
Johnny Osbourne,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Country Joe & The Fish,
F. McDonald,
Das Ding,
Ten City,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gil Scott Heron,
Juan Atkins,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ossler,
Toni Rubio,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Mandrill,
DJ Sneak,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Agent Orange,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Soft Cell,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Los Fastidios,
Q and Not U,
Henry Cow,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Minnie Riperton,
Johnny Clarke,
These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls.
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.