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 Venezuela and from Beijing.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 clarinet 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 Siglo XX to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Jandek. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moebius record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
Kurtis Blow,
The Dirtbombs,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
La Düsseldorf,
Judy Mowatt,
Dennis Brown,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Glenn Branca,
Ken Boothe,
The Leaves,
Television Personalities,
Moebius,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Cymande,
Rekid,
Accadde A,
The Moleskins,
Rapeman,
Letta Mbulu,
Matthew Halsall,
Niagra,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Dead Boys,
Vainqueur,
Theoretical Girls,
Black Moon,
Roy Ayers,
The Fall,
Soft Machine,
Urselle,
The Dave Clark Five,
Kayak,
Yazoo,
Young Marble Giants,
Fat Boys,
Faust,
Lungfish,
Rufus Thomas,
Pussy Galore,
The Star Department,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Saints,
The Beau Brummels,
Los Fastidios,
Barclay James Harvest,
Swell Maps,
The Black Dice,
Todd Rundgren,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Modern Lovers,
Hardrive,
Make Up,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
L. Decosne,
The Techniques,
The Flesh Eaters,
Panda Bear,
Loose Ends,
Rakim,
Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux.
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.