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 Algeria and from Toronto.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Electric Prunes to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Minor Threat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arcadia record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Wake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Mad Mike,
Fad Gadget,
Al Stewart,
Urselle,
Arthur Verocai,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Roy Ayers,
the Slits,
Soul II Soul,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bobby Womack,
Lucky Dragons,
Echospace,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Brick,
David Bowie,
The Birthday Party,
Todd Terry,
Pierre Henry,
The Alarm Clocks,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jeff Mills,
Dawn Penn,
Pylon,
Black Moon,
Man Eating Sloth,
Q65,
Duran Duran,
Drexciya,
The Star Department,
H. Thieme,
New Order,
Michelle Simonal,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Amazonics,
The Mojo Men,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Zeros,
Public Enemy,
Cheater Slicks,
Nick Fraelich,
Sun City Girls,
Absolute Body Control,
Rod Modell,
Sound Behaviour,
Archie Shepp,
Model 500,
Niagra,
Roxy Music,
Unwound,
The Sound,
Warsaw,
The Toasters,
Saccharine Trust,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Curtis Mayfield,
Skarface,
Liliput,
L. Decosne,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front.
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.