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 Latvia and from Calgary.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 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 Massinfluence to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Trumans Water. All the underground hits.
All The Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris & Cosey record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang on a Can All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Human League,
Rekid,
Throbbing Gristle,
Prince Buster,
Harry Pussy,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Stiv Bators,
Surgeon,
Soul II Soul,
the Swans,
Cheater Slicks,
Anakelly,
Amon Düül,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lou Reed,
Boz Scaggs,
Ultra Naté,
Lyres,
Delon & Dalcan,
Juan Atkins,
The Buckinghams,
Ornette Coleman,
The Smoke,
Symarip,
Eurythmics,
Glenn Branca,
Faust,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Mission of Burma,
Mantronix,
Pylon,
Scrapy,
Soft Machine,
Connie Case,
Kaleidoscope,
Derrick Morgan,
Minny Pops,
Depeche Mode,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Slits,
the Normal,
Can,
Goldenarms,
The Smiths,
Vladislav Delay,
Yusef Lateef,
The Fuzztones,
Howard Jones,
Magazine,
Sexual Harrassment,
X-101,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sound Behaviour,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
the Germs,
The Gories,
Donny Hathaway,
Visage,
Scott Walker,
Outsiders,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Remains,
China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis.
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.