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 Armenia and from Lille.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Albert Ayler to the funk 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme. All the underground hits.
All Television tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eli Mardock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Unwound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joensuu 1685,
Stockholm Monsters,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Crime,
the Swans,
Fad Gadget,
Adolescents,
H. Thieme,
The Kinks,
Nico,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lebanon Hanover,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mars,
Lungfish,
The Fortunes,
Tropical Tobacco,
Altered Images,
Judy Mowatt,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Eve St. Jones,
Todd Terry,
Zero Boys,
Wolf Eyes,
Ludus,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Index,
Little Man,
Main Source,
The Beau Brummels,
The Victims,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Busters,
Marine Girls,
Niagra,
Porter Ricks,
Essential Logic,
Livin' Joy,
The Martian,
Con Funk Shun,
Clear Light,
Radiohead,
Barclay James Harvest,
Half Japanese,
Blake Baxter,
Make Up,
Minnie Riperton,
Magazine,
The Cowsills,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Rosa Yemen,
Scrapy,
Gabor Szabo,
Thompson Twins,
Ronan,
Von Mondo,
Trumans Water,
ABC,
Smog,
Angry Samoans,
Jandek,
The Evens, The Evens, The Evens, The Evens.
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.