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 Libya and from Mexico City.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Rekid to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sällskapet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Barbara Tucker,
Matthew Halsall,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
AZ,
Banda Bassotti,
Deadbeat,
Audionom,
Hardrive,
Althea and Donna,
Sixth Finger,
The Cure,
La Düsseldorf,
Sarah Menescal,
David McCallum,
Sam Rivers,
The American Breed,
Babytalk,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Metal Thangz,
Alton Ellis,
Pere Ubu,
Scrapy,
Black Pus,
Warsaw,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Man Parrish,
Faust,
The Golliwogs,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Lower 48,
Soulsonic Force,
Deepchord,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Idris Muhammad,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Absolute Body Control,
The Slackers,
Pussy Galore,
The Red Krayola,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Stockholm Monsters,
Laurel Aitken,
Jacob Miller,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Letta Mbulu,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Aswad,
Subhumans,
The Barracudas,
D'Angelo,
Bob Dylan,
Surgeon,
U.S. Maple,
Parry Music,
The Fuzztones,
E-Dancer,
Camouflage,
Scott Walker,
Flipper,
Maurizio,
Joensuu 1685, Joensuu 1685, Joensuu 1685, Joensuu 1685.
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.