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 Romania and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Martian to the crunk 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 Pantytec. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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 Grass Roots,
T.S.O.L.,
L. Decosne,
Grauzone,
The Dirtbombs,
Arthur Verocai,
the Germs,
Roxette,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Negative Approach,
Lyres,
The Walker Brothers,
Michelle Simonal,
The Monks,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Goldenarms,
Pet Shop Boys,
8 Eyed Spy,
Main Source,
John Coltrane,
Masters at Work,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Evens,
Avey Tare,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Barclay James Harvest,
Black Sheep,
The Martian,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bizarre Inc.,
Kevin Saunderson,
Alphaville,
The Index,
The Slackers,
Technova,
Flash Fearless,
Kenny Larkin,
Ornette Coleman,
Ronnie Foster,
Eli Mardock,
Crooked Eye,
Minnie Riperton,
Aloha Tigers,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Tremeloes,
The Knickerbockers,
Graham Central Station,
La Düsseldorf,
The Litter,
Sällskapet,
Tomorrow,
Scan 7,
The Golliwogs,
Public Image Ltd.,
Henry Cow,
Jerry's Kids,
PIL,
Japan,
Brass Construction,
Fela Kuti,
Easy Going,
Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd.
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.