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 Brunei and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Ohio Players. All the underground hits.
All Byron Stingily tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Infiniti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Curtis Mayfield record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flamin' Groovies,
Swell Maps,
Y Pants,
the Normal,
Mars,
Big Daddy Kane,
Black Pus,
Pere Ubu,
Ultra Naté,
the Association,
Pole,
MC5,
Desert Stars,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Ituana,
Sun Ra,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Anthony Braxton,
Shoche,
Letta Mbulu,
Guru Guru,
Sexual Harrassment,
Man Parrish,
Anakelly,
FM Einheit,
Kool Moe Dee,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Donny Hathaway,
Maleditus Sound,
Archie Shepp,
Organ,
Surgeon,
Colin Newman,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Dirtbombs,
Lou Christie,
Alton Ellis,
Bobby Byrd,
Camberwell Now,
Erykah Badu,
Carl Craig,
Black Bananas,
Hardrive,
Bill Wells,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Zero Boys,
Joyce Sims,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Scratch Acid,
Fear,
Eli Mardock,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Kas Product,
John Cale,
Boz Scaggs,
Traffic Nightmare,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
48th St. Collective,
Jawbox,
Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay.
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.