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 Croatia and from Lagos.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 arpeggiator 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 X-102 to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 John Cale. All the underground hits.
All The Moleskins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Bad Manners,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Rosa Yemen,
Ten City,
F. McDonald,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ronan,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
X-Ray Spex,
Leonard Cohen,
Amon Düül II,
Kerrie Biddell,
Theoretical Girls,
KRS-One,
Gang Green,
Niagra,
L. Decosne,
The Monochrome Set,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Lou Christie,
Ralphi Rosario,
Funkadelic,
Barry Ungar,
Siglo XX,
Rapeman,
Nas,
Sarah Menescal,
Crash Course in Science,
Glambeats Corp.,
CMW,
Idris Muhammad,
Gerry Rafferty,
Goldenarms,
Bill Near,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Circle Jerks,
Jawbox,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Graham Central Station,
Japan,
Popol Vuh,
Erasure,
Marc Almond,
Morten Harket,
Crooked Eye,
Black Moon,
Silicon Teens,
This Heat,
Lalann,
Junior Murvin,
Eli Mardock,
Funky Four + One,
Arcadia,
The Searchers,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bobby Sherman,
Lungfish,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column.
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.