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 Paraguay and from Taipei.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Jawbox. All the underground hits.
All Terry Callier tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Moon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Buzzcocks,
Barclay James Harvest,
Laurel Aitken,
The Durutti Column,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Saccharine Trust,
Zero Boys,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Theoretical Girls,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Residents,
Scientists,
The Invisible,
Second Layer,
Gong,
X-102,
Technova,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Tremeloes,
Quantec,
Essential Logic,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Janne Schatter,
Deepchord,
The Monks,
The Doors,
The Fortunes,
Scratch Acid,
Man Parrish,
Parry Music,
Sparks,
Interpol,
Dennis Brown,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Litter,
E-Dancer,
June Days,
Bush Tetras,
Massinfluence,
Ultra Naté,
Clear Light,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Birthday Party,
Mo-Dettes,
Alison Limerick,
Aural Exciters,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Cluster,
The Last Poets,
The Selecter,
The Martian,
Flamin' Groovies,
Schoolly D,
Sugar Minott,
Jerry Gold Smith,
China Crisis,
Maleditus Sound,
Deakin,
Gang of Four,
The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters.
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.