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 Columbus.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the clarinet 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 H. Thieme to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Hot Snakes. All the underground hits.
All Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Popol Vuh 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a World's Most record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Stereo Dub,
Frankie Knuckles,
Soul Sonic Force,
Soft Cell,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Liliput,
Eden Ahbez,
Slave,
Accadde A,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Juan Atkins,
Barrington Levy,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Mark Hollis,
Iggy Pop,
The Index,
John Cale,
Interpol,
Marc Almond,
Supertramp,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sun Ra,
Skaos,
Yaz,
Zero Boys,
Maleditus Sound,
X-Ray Spex,
Pussy Galore,
Severed Heads,
Grauzone,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Kerri Chandler,
Mr. Review,
Young Marble Giants,
Colin Newman,
Kenny Larkin,
Chrome,
Barbara Tucker,
Easy Going,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Cure,
Kaleidoscope,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bobby Byrd,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bush Tetras,
Girls At Our Best!,
Roger Hodgson,
Japan,
Swans,
Rites of Spring,
Mandrill,
Marmalade,
The Moody Blues,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Maurizio,
The Birthday Party,
Scratch Acid,
The Dead C,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Man Parrish,
Jeff Mills,
Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins.
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.