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 Argentina and from Spokane.
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 Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Boogie Down Productions to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All Minor Threat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bluetip 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Outsiders,
Marvin Gaye,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Barbara Tucker,
Drexciya,
JFA,
Buzzcocks,
Sonic Youth,
Jeru the Damaja,
Jesper Dahlback,
Funkadelic,
Lee Hazlewood,
Terry Callier,
Kurtis Blow,
Clear Light,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
the Germs,
Roxette,
Gang Green,
Swans,
Procol Harum,
Bad Manners,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Niagra,
Television,
Pussy Galore,
The Gap Band,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Godley & Creme,
The Star Department,
Colin Newman,
The Wake,
Porter Ricks,
The Buckinghams,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Smog,
Erykah Badu,
The Gories,
Matthew Bourne,
John Foxx,
Bush Tetras,
The Neon Judgement,
Reuben Wilson,
The Stooges,
Mo-Dettes,
Black Pus,
Wings,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Suicide,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Connie Case,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sarah Menescal,
Whodini,
Moss Icon,
Maleditus Sound,
Joy Division,
Chris & Cosey,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.