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 Malta and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu to the disco 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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Metal Thangz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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?
Boredoms,
Theoretical Girls,
48th St. Collective,
Altered Images,
AZ,
the Sonics,
The Young Rascals,
Intrusion,
Mo-Dettes,
The Cowsills,
Eurythmics,
Derrick Morgan,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
New Age Steppers,
Neil Young,
Cybotron,
The Walker Brothers,
Alphaville,
Roy Ayers,
Graham Central Station,
Danielle Patucci,
F. McDonald,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lungfish,
Banda Bassotti,
Marcia Griffiths,
Fear,
Blancmange,
Jeru the Damaja,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
John Coltrane,
Crime,
Prince Buster,
Dead Boys,
Bobby Womack,
Jandek,
Sly & The Family Stone,
John Cale,
The Seeds,
Gregory Isaacs,
Au Pairs,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Unwound,
Robert Görl,
Simply Red,
Oneida,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Jawbox,
Suburban Knight,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sam Rivers,
the Fania All-Stars,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Mission of Burma,
Easy Going,
Howard Jones,
China Crisis,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
the Swans,
Gabor Szabo,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.