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 India 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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Arcadia to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Ossler. All the underground hits.
All cv313 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bad Manners 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Chris & Cosey,
Symarip,
Mary Jane Girls,
Smog,
Nick Fraelich,
Scrapy,
Easy Going,
The Skatalites,
Moby Grape,
Ohio Players,
Lucky Dragons,
Malaria!,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Tommy Roe,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Invisible,
Pantytec,
Mo-Dettes,
The Litter,
In Retrospect,
Masters at Work,
The Durutti Column,
L. Decosne,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Deepchord,
Pierre Henry,
T. Rex,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Dirtbombs,
Radio Birdman,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Grauzone,
Scientists,
The Trojans,
The Buckinghams,
Donny Hathaway,
Motorama,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Slave,
the Germs,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Mandrill,
Soul Sonic Force,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lakeside,
World's Most,
Freddie Wadling,
The Detroit Cobras,
Simply Red,
Max Romeo,
Pantaleimon,
Dark Day,
Byron Stingily,
Cal Tjader,
The Busters,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.