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 Brazil and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the rap 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 Peter and Kerry. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Anthony Braxton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James Chance & The Contortions,
The J.B.'s,
Stiv Bators,
The Seeds,
Rotary Connection,
Erykah Badu,
Harry Pussy,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bootsy Collins,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Drexciya,
Pierre Henry,
Mantronix,
The Buckinghams,
Sexual Harrassment,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lou Reed,
Erasure,
Wolf Eyes,
Fela Kuti,
Grandmaster Flash,
Eden Ahbez,
Marcia Griffiths,
Letta Mbulu,
Man Parrish,
Tears for Fears,
Harmonia,
Cybotron,
Nation of Ulysses,
Audionom,
Radiopuhelimet,
Neu!,
U.S. Maple,
Dead Boys,
Pussy Galore,
The Angels of Light,
Joensuu 1685,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Accadde A,
The Human League,
the Swans,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Saints,
Blossom Toes,
Television,
Ultravox,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Martian,
Amon Düül II,
Skaos,
Absolute Body Control,
Rapeman,
Sparks,
Index,
Rod Modell,
June of 44,
The Birthday Party,
Laurel Aitken,
Chris Corsano,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.