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 Burkina and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 mellotron 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 The Shadows of Knight to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Arab on Radar. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MDC 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?
Lindisfarne,
Yazoo,
The Monks,
R.M.O.,
Icehouse,
These Immortal Souls,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Flash Fearless,
David Bowie,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Nation of Ulysses,
Grey Daturas,
the Sonics,
Television,
the Germs,
Agent Orange,
Man Eating Sloth,
In Retrospect,
Whodini,
Hot Snakes,
Absolute Body Control,
The Electric Prunes,
John Lydon,
Janne Schatter,
Andrew Hill,
The Fire Engines,
Harpers Bizarre,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Public Enemy,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Moody Blues,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Chris Corsano,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Searchers,
Minny Pops,
Deadbeat,
Tropical Tobacco,
Shuggie Otis,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Magma,
PIL,
The Dirtbombs,
The Music Machine,
The Divine Comedy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Newcleus,
Lou Christie,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Doobie Brothers,
Jimmy McGriff,
U.S. Maple,
The Sonics,
Nick Fraelich,
Alphaville,
Second Layer,
Marc Almond,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Buzzcocks,
DNA,
The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras.
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.