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 Jordan and from Calgary.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 sitar 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 Minutemen to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Howard Jones. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer 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 Smoke,
The Music Machine,
Flipper,
The Smiths,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Procol Harum,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
8 Eyed Spy,
Interpol,
CMW,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Franke,
The Beau Brummels,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Toasters,
Minny Pops,
Liliput,
Glenn Branca,
Motorama,
Roger Hodgson,
Radiohead,
Funkadelic,
Connie Case,
Alice Coltrane,
The American Breed,
Sonny Sharrock,
Rapeman,
The Fire Engines,
Talk Talk,
Tubeway Army,
Darondo,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ronan,
Sex Pistols,
Lindisfarne,
Rod Modell,
Icehouse,
Davy DMX,
Amazonics,
Hoover,
The Wake,
Joyce Sims,
Fatback Band,
Inner City,
A Certain Ratio,
the Fania All-Stars,
Echospace,
Au Pairs,
Godley & Creme,
Bluetip,
New Order,
Animal Collective,
The Remains,
The Misunderstood,
Bob Dylan,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Duran Duran,
Kerri Chandler,
The Dead C,
Stereo Dub,
Theoretical Girls,
Agitation Free,
Rotary Connection,
The Count Five,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.