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 Papua New Guinea and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Wire to the electroclash 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 The Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Minor Threat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eli Mardock,
Reagan Youth,
Jawbox,
Ludus,
Q65,
The Gladiators,
Sparks,
Sex Pistols,
Bizarre Inc.,
Delta 5,
Jandek,
The Neon Judgement,
Erykah Badu,
Carl Craig,
Franke,
B.T. Express,
Minnie Riperton,
Kayak,
Wolf Eyes,
DNA,
Aloha Tigers,
Rotary Connection,
The Moleskins,
Mad Mike,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Smiths,
Spandau Ballet,
Technova,
Dawn Penn,
Marvin Gaye,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Chrome,
Harmonia,
James White and The Blacks,
Robert Hood,
Connie Case,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gang Green,
Arcadia,
Yaz,
Bootsy Collins,
X-Ray Spex,
The Doors,
New Age Steppers,
Eve St. Jones,
Jerry's Kids,
Subhumans,
Pussy Galore,
The Saints,
Fear,
Kurtis Blow,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Inner City,
Blake Baxter,
Amon Düül II,
Saccharine Trust,
The Searchers,
the Human League,
Cheater Slicks,
Minor Threat,
Jeff Lynne,
Barbara Tucker,
Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi.
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.