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 Turkmenistan and from Seoul.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 X-101 to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 U.S. Maple. All the underground hits.
All Unwound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Young Rascals,
Gregory Isaacs,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Josef K,
Robert Wyatt,
Banda Bassotti,
Trumans Water,
Joyce Sims,
Aaron Thompson,
Pet Shop Boys,
Deadbeat,
Easy Going,
Adolescents,
Jeff Lynne,
Radiopuhelimet,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pylon,
The Flesh Eaters,
Anthony Braxton,
Barry Ungar,
Aural Exciters,
48th St. Collective,
The Pretty Things,
KRS-One,
Ludus,
The Dave Clark Five,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Lee Hazlewood,
Faust,
Nation of Ulysses,
Al Stewart,
Minny Pops,
Reuben Wilson,
Average White Band,
The Five Americans,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Monochrome Set,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sixth Finger,
Buzzcocks,
The Modern Lovers,
Brand Nubian,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
John Lydon,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Moleskins,
The Pop Group,
Bobby Sherman,
Camouflage,
Rosa Yemen,
Pantaleimon,
Radiohead,
Todd Rundgren,
Dual Sessions,
Albert Ayler,
R.M.O.,
Fela Kuti,
Kevin Saunderson,
Bob Dylan,
Dennis Brown,
Todd Terry,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.