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 Dominican Republic and from Lyon.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Lyon.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Terry Callier to the crunk 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 Isaac Hayes. All the underground hits.
All Dawn Penn tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Y Pants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cheater Slicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Clarke,
Pole,
Howard Jones,
Jerry's Kids,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Blackbyrds,
Thee Headcoats,
Robert Hood,
Sparks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Banda Bassotti,
Little Man,
Drive Like Jehu,
Gang Gang Dance,
Scan 7,
Funkadelic,
Neu!,
Average White Band,
Marmalade,
Ultravox,
the Swans,
June Days,
Bush Tetras,
Jawbox,
Sixth Finger,
Patti Smith,
T. Rex,
Crooked Eye,
Letta Mbulu,
Panda Bear,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pere Ubu,
The Moody Blues,
The Dirtbombs,
The Doobie Brothers,
Eddi Front,
Hashim,
Zero Boys,
The Index,
Fear,
Avey Tare,
Fat Boys,
Lee Hazlewood,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Chrome,
Deadbeat,
Wings,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
L. Decosne,
Goldenarms,
Amazonics,
Max Romeo,
Altered Images,
Television Personalities,
The Monks,
Stiv Bators,
FM Einheit,
Flamin' Groovies,
Girls At Our Best!,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.