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 Uruguay and from Spokane.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Fugazi to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Star Department. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sunsets and Hearts 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
Danielle Patucci,
The Cure,
a-ha,
DNA,
The Birthday Party,
Japan,
Rakim,
Gichy Dan,
Sällskapet,
The Human League,
U.S. Maple,
Hashim,
Faust,
Scan 7,
Nik Kershaw,
Glenn Branca,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jerry's Kids,
Toni Rubio,
New York Dolls,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Barry Ungar,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bluetip,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Happenings,
Pet Shop Boys,
Moss Icon,
Agent Orange,
Thompson Twins,
Agitation Free,
Dead Boys,
Bob Dylan,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sonic Youth,
48th St. Collective,
Young Marble Giants,
Lungfish,
Scientists,
Deakin,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
These Immortal Souls,
Pole,
Wasted Youth,
Hot Snakes,
Absolute Body Control,
Rosa Yemen,
The Remains,
Electric Prunes,
Joensuu 1685,
Kayak,
Steve Hackett,
Sexual Harrassment,
Average White Band,
Janne Schatter,
London Community Gospel Choir,
AZ,
Jacob Miller,
Yellowson,
Susan Cadogan,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bauhaus,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.