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 New Zealand and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Country Teasers to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Fear. All the underground hits.
All Alison Limerick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Motions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Wake,
Sixth Finger,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
One Last Wish,
Cecil Taylor,
Derrick Morgan,
Quantec,
Niagra,
Sällskapet,
Tropical Tobacco,
Fad Gadget,
The Busters,
This Heat,
Iggy Pop,
Circle Jerks,
Man Parrish,
Con Funk Shun,
Dark Day,
Minnie Riperton,
Laurel Aitken,
Lungfish,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Ultra Naté,
Surgeon,
Reagan Youth,
Country Teasers,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
K-Klass,
The Offenders,
Eve St. Jones,
John Lydon,
Negative Approach,
Aural Exciters,
Warsaw,
Motorama,
Cheater Slicks,
Popol Vuh,
Loose Ends,
Bill Near,
Vainqueur,
The Buckinghams,
Piero Umiliani,
Ponytail,
David Bowie,
a-ha,
T. Rex,
Judy Mowatt,
Barbara Tucker,
Thee Headcoats,
Todd Rundgren,
Ultravox,
Main Source,
Tom Boy,
Amon Düül II,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jeru the Damaja,
Terry Callier,
Underground Resistance,
Parry Music,
Siglo XX,
Yaz,
Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans.
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.