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 Marshall Islands and from Lagos.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 The Fuzztones to the electroclash 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 Black Moon. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every MC5 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Cale,
Funky Four + One,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sandy B,
Fat Boys,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Tears for Fears,
Bootsy Collins,
Skarface,
Marc Almond,
Big Daddy Kane,
Smog,
Althea and Donna,
Procol Harum,
The Motions,
Q and Not U,
Monolake,
The Leaves,
Ultravox,
Bronski Beat,
48th St. Collective,
Electric Prunes,
Sarah Menescal,
Scientists,
Rotary Connection,
The Litter,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Curtis Mayfield,
Qualms,
Half Japanese,
Faust,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
R.M.O.,
Kurtis Blow,
The United States of America,
Kenny Larkin,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Fear,
Tubeway Army,
Bad Manners,
Spoonie Gee,
Gong,
Swell Maps,
DJ Sneak,
Sonny Sharrock,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eddi Front,
Ralphi Rosario,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Freddie Wadling,
Brass Construction,
Sugar Minott,
Albert Ayler,
Cymande,
The Black Dice,
The Selecter,
The Skatalites,
Pharoah Sanders,
Spandau Ballet,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.