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 Poland and from Mumbai.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
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 Lonnie Liston Smith to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doors record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Finger,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Rufus Thomas,
The Kinks,
Kayak,
James White and The Blacks,
Dead Boys,
Pole,
F. McDonald,
Urselle,
The Litter,
Audionom,
Rosa Yemen,
The Tremeloes,
Mars,
Index,
Aaron Thompson,
Peter and Kerry,
Hardrive,
Cecil Taylor,
48th St. Collective,
Con Funk Shun,
David Bowie,
Lightning Bolt,
Jeff Lynne,
Adolescents,
Heaven 17,
The Stooges,
Barbara Tucker,
Sun City Girls,
Glambeats Corp.,
Mantronix,
Fela Kuti,
Hashim,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Eve St. Jones,
The Doors,
Al Stewart,
Iggy Pop,
Derrick May,
Josef K,
Fatback Band,
Flash Fearless,
Man Eating Sloth,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
the Germs,
Scratch Acid,
Bill Wells,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Glenn Branca,
A Certain Ratio,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Yazoo,
Can,
June Days,
The American Breed,
Moebius,
Arab on Radar,
The Cure,
Duran Duran,
Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance.
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.