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 Ghana and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bauhaus to the dance 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 Index. All the underground hits.
All Sam Rivers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kango’s Stein Massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Procol Harum record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
James White and The Blacks,
Urselle,
Con Funk Shun,
Kerri Chandler,
Groovy Waters,
Eric Copeland,
8 Eyed Spy,
Subhumans,
Swans,
The Black Dice,
Siglo XX,
Robert Wyatt,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Stooges,
Warren Ellis,
Todd Terry,
Metal Thangz,
Bobby Sherman,
Essential Logic,
Ituana,
The Gun Club,
Thompson Twins,
Pharoah Sanders,
Dead Boys,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Pylon,
Surgeon,
the Soft Cell,
Mad Mike,
The Busters,
Blancmange,
Tom Boy,
Vainqueur,
Pantytec,
The Slackers,
These Immortal Souls,
Outsiders,
Mandrill,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bluetip,
In Retrospect,
Lalann,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Eddi Front,
Amazonics,
The Index,
Grey Daturas,
Quantec,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Saccharine Trust,
The Skatalites,
Gang Gang Dance,
Joe Smooth,
Harry Pussy,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gregory Isaacs,
Boz Scaggs,
The Standells,
The Fugs,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Fat Boys,
Lou Reed & Metallica, Lou Reed & Metallica, Lou Reed & Metallica, Lou Reed & Metallica.
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.