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 San Marino and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the punk 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 The Slits. All the underground hits.
All X-102 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Connie Case record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pole record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scratch Acid,
Excepter,
The Searchers,
Bad Manners,
K-Klass,
Skriet,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sexual Harrassment,
Mr. Review,
The Grass Roots,
Roxette,
Zapp,
Joe Smooth,
One Last Wish,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Alison Limerick,
Lakeside,
The Gun Club,
Lucky Dragons,
Cecil Taylor,
The Saints,
Brand Nubian,
Howard Jones,
The Evens,
Masters at Work,
Minor Threat,
The Tremeloes,
Sun City Girls,
David McCallum,
Altered Images,
Black Bananas,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bauhaus,
Eric Dolphy,
Siglo XX,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Warren Ellis,
Y Pants,
Henry Cow,
The Knickerbockers,
Tears for Fears,
the Slits,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ronnie Foster,
Joe Finger,
Fluxion,
Chris Corsano,
KRS-One,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Victims,
Soft Cell,
ABBA,
Todd Rundgren,
Sugar Minott,
Avey Tare,
Alton Ellis,
Fatback Band,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Freddie Wadling,
Blossom Toes,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.