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 United Kingdom and from Woodstock.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Sixth Finger to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Techniques record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Slave,
Crispian St. Peters,
Circle Jerks,
Tears for Fears,
The Victims,
Crime,
Smog,
Jesper Dahlback,
New Order,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Normal,
Tres Demented,
Deadbeat,
Echospace,
The Litter,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Altered Images,
Tubeway Army,
Warren Ellis,
Erykah Badu,
The Cramps,
Ultravox,
The Doobie Brothers,
Das Ding,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Magma,
David McCallum,
Gong,
Black Bananas,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Neu!,
The Standells,
Marmalade,
Fluxion,
Japan,
Bizarre Inc.,
Monks,
The Blues Magoos,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Skaos,
The Misunderstood,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Cluster,
Nik Kershaw,
Fad Gadget,
F. McDonald,
Dual Sessions,
The Fortunes,
Jacques Brel,
Alphaville,
X-102,
Mandrill,
One Last Wish,
Sarah Menescal,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sällskapet,
The Skatalites,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Popol Vuh,
Jacob Miller,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.