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 Jordan and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 K-Klass to the crunk 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 the Slits. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maurizio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zero Boys,
Eddi Front,
Blancmange,
The Five Americans,
Cheater Slicks,
T. Rex,
The Remains,
Clear Light,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Nik Kershaw,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Todd Rundgren,
Sex Pistols,
Q65,
Massinfluence,
Motorama,
Frankie Knuckles,
H. Thieme,
The Dave Clark Five,
Talk Talk,
Todd Terry,
Reagan Youth,
KRS-One,
Young Marble Giants,
Dawn Penn,
Zapp,
Gastr Del Sol,
Liliput,
Nick Fraelich,
The Last Poets,
Crispian St. Peters,
Scan 7,
The Pretty Things,
Suicide,
Oneida,
This Heat,
Yaz,
The Associates,
Terry Callier,
Arab on Radar,
John Foxx,
The J.B.'s,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Urselle,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sonny Sharrock,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Scion,
Boz Scaggs,
Icehouse,
Fatback Band,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Reuben Wilson,
The Leaves,
Kayak,
The Vogues,
Nirvana,
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.