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 Canada and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bizarre Inc. to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Arcadia. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dorothy Ashby,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sandy B,
Dark Day,
Brick,
Sparks,
John Coltrane,
Lebanon Hanover,
Adolescents,
Man Parrish,
Y Pants,
Freddie Wadling,
The Last Poets,
Severed Heads,
Ronan,
Youth Brigade,
the Sonics,
Leonard Cohen,
Roxy Music,
Clear Light,
Country Teasers,
Derrick May,
Curtis Mayfield,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sällskapet,
kango's stein massive,
Letta Mbulu,
Fluxion,
Con Funk Shun,
Drexciya,
The Flesh Eaters,
Hot Snakes,
Al Stewart,
Jacques Brel,
Trumans Water,
Jawbox,
Minutemen,
Surgeon,
Popol Vuh,
Suburban Knight,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sex Pistols,
The Angels of Light,
the Human League,
The Leaves,
Dawn Penn,
Lee Hazlewood,
Deakin,
Agitation Free,
Simply Red,
The Sound,
Dead Boys,
Hoover,
The Smiths,
Sunsets and Hearts,
John Cale,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bob Dylan,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Marine Girls,
Kerrie Biddell,
Minnie Riperton,
D'Angelo,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.