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 Kyrgyzstan and from Copenhagen.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Victims to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Connie Case record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Aural Exciters,
Jeru the Damaja,
Aloha Tigers,
Pole,
Tropical Tobacco,
Section 25,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
EPMD,
Susan Cadogan,
The Durutti Column,
The Star Department,
Lakeside,
Alton Ellis,
The Gladiators,
Deadbeat,
Pere Ubu,
Sam Rivers,
The Leaves,
Brass Construction,
The Fugs,
Sixth Finger,
Drive Like Jehu,
Icehouse,
The Moleskins,
The Residents,
Kayak,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
These Immortal Souls,
Eden Ahbez,
John Cale,
Glenn Branca,
Severed Heads,
Blossom Toes,
Letta Mbulu,
DJ Sneak,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Terry Callier,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Oneida,
Fatback Band,
Young Marble Giants,
The Move,
The Associates,
Cymande,
The Doobie Brothers,
Mo-Dettes,
Jeff Mills,
Thee Headcoats,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gichy Dan,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Derrick May,
Rites of Spring,
David Bowie,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Big Daddy Kane,
a-ha,
The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones.
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.