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 Bulgaria and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 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 Moby Grape to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Kool Moe Dee. All the underground hits.
All Yazoo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crooked Eye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eden Ahbez,
Maurizio,
Buzzcocks,
Pere Ubu,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bobby Sherman,
Make Up,
Bluetip,
The Sound,
T. Rex,
Al Stewart,
Barrington Levy,
Inner City,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lou Reed,
Mars,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Black Bananas,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Moody Blues,
Black Moon,
Gichy Dan,
Prince Buster,
Ponytail,
The Flesh Eaters,
Wally Richardson,
Flamin' Groovies,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Unrelated Segments,
Don Cherry,
Can,
Davy DMX,
Cluster,
The Motions,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rotary Connection,
Darondo,
Nas,
Easy Going,
Arab on Radar,
Sound Behaviour,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Simply Red,
Cybotron,
Fad Gadget,
Barbara Tucker,
Spandau Ballet,
Youth Brigade,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Last Poets,
This Heat,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Red Krayola,
Wolf Eyes,
Boredoms,
The Cure,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Rekid,
Swans,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Misunderstood,
June Days,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.