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 Paraguay and from Glasgow.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the güiro 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Unwound. All the underground hits.
All Peter and Kerry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joyce Sims record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Little Man record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bob Dylan,
Masters at Work,
Kenny Larkin,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Red Krayola,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sparks,
Mantronix,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Cymande,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Japan,
T.S.O.L.,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Crash Course in Science,
Barbara Tucker,
John Cale,
Heaven 17,
The Evens,
U.S. Maple,
The Golliwogs,
Pole,
Mission of Burma,
Skaos,
Lou Christie,
Mary Jane Girls,
Marc Almond,
Minnie Riperton,
Young Marble Giants,
The Durutti Column,
The Grass Roots,
The Divine Comedy,
Chris & Cosey,
Pantytec,
The Index,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Saints,
Warren Ellis,
Marshall Jefferson,
A Certain Ratio,
Scott Walker,
Tommy Roe,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Technova,
the Fania All-Stars,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Charles Mingus,
Skriet,
Roger Hodgson,
Scratch Acid,
Terry Callier,
David McCallum,
Joey Negro,
Neu!,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Mars,
Ultra Naté,
DNA,
Mandrill,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.