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 Chile and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the sitar 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 Eli Mardock to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Barrington Levy. All the underground hits.
All The Beau Brummels tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Wells,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Modern Lovers,
48th St. Collective,
Symarip,
the Fania All-Stars,
Thompson Twins,
Davy DMX,
Blossom Toes,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Deakin,
Sound Behaviour,
Moss Icon,
Albert Ayler,
The Names,
Prince Buster,
Vladislav Delay,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Ultravox,
Althea and Donna,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Robert Hood,
Soul Sonic Force,
Warsaw,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
the Swans,
Rod Modell,
Outsiders,
Siglo XX,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Vainqueur,
Marcia Griffiths,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
James White and The Blacks,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Residents,
Liliput,
Stetsasonic,
Stockholm Monsters,
Spoonie Gee,
F. McDonald,
Accadde A,
Dual Sessions,
Rites of Spring,
Black Bananas,
Barry Ungar,
Rufus Thomas,
Quantec,
Arab on Radar,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bronski Beat,
Sam Rivers,
The Count Five,
The Zeros,
JFA,
Lindisfarne,
The Invisible,
Agent Orange,
The Blues Magoos,
The Evens,
Bang On A Can,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.