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 Haiti and from Accra.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
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 E-Dancer to the electroclash 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 Donald Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Patti Smith 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Urselle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gong,
Icehouse,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Black Flag,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Human League,
Radiohead,
Animal Collective,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Dave Clark Five,
Connie Case,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Vainqueur,
Nirvana,
The Real Kids,
Technova,
Girls At Our Best!,
Alice Coltrane,
Television,
Tubeway Army,
Loose Ends,
Roxy Music,
Excepter,
Crispy Ambulance,
Archie Shepp,
Steve Hackett,
Joyce Sims,
Tres Demented,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Tomorrow,
Jeff Mills,
Maleditus Sound,
Eyeless In Gaza,
EPMD,
Reagan Youth,
The Raincoats,
Amon Düül,
Mo-Dettes,
Neil Young,
The Music Machine,
Little Man,
Fad Gadget,
DNA,
Slave,
The Young Rascals,
Chrome,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sam Rivers,
the Swans,
kango's stein massive,
The Litter,
the Sonics,
Motorama,
Depeche Mode,
Franke,
Robert Görl,
Banda Bassotti,
The Victims,
Magma,
The Vogues,
New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers.
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.