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 Luxembourg and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Lee Hazlewood to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Erasure. All the underground hits.
All Eric Dolphy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Christie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
The Detroit Cobras,
Pantaleimon,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Dead Boys,
Nico,
Organ,
Aaron Thompson,
The Gories,
This Heat,
Lightning Bolt,
Drive Like Jehu,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Althea and Donna,
James White and The Blacks,
The Index,
The Searchers,
Hardrive,
Marc Almond,
Gang Gang Dance,
Alton Ellis,
Blancmange,
Deadbeat,
Yellowson,
Pere Ubu,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Gang Starr,
The Toasters,
One Last Wish,
Carl Craig,
Drexciya,
Wolf Eyes,
Black Moon,
Visage,
Erykah Badu,
Goldenarms,
Leonard Cohen,
the Bar-Kays,
Deakin,
Aswad,
Wally Richardson,
The American Breed,
Blossom Toes,
The Gun Club,
China Crisis,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Moebius,
Morten Harket,
Donald Byrd,
The Kinks,
Gong,
The Blackbyrds,
Gang of Four,
Lee Hazlewood,
Qualms,
Excepter,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
John Foxx,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.