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 Lithuania and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Paris.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the theremin 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 Andrew Hill to the techno 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 Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All The Busters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kurtis Blow,
Marmalade,
Circle Jerks,
The Detroit Cobras,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Smiths,
Yazoo,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sällskapet,
Stiv Bators,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Crash Course in Science,
The United States of America,
Clear Light,
Mantronix,
Simply Red,
Arthur Verocai,
Marine Girls,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pharoah Sanders,
Qualms,
New Order,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lalo Schifrin,
Crispy Ambulance,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Eric Copeland,
Roxy Music,
The Doobie Brothers,
Index,
Zapp,
Newcleus,
Talk Talk,
Thompson Twins,
Khruangbin,
Lyres,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Howard Jones,
The Human League,
Porter Ricks,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Cameo,
Bang On A Can,
Cybotron,
Alice Coltrane,
The Seeds,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Five Americans,
Bush Tetras,
Peter & Gordon,
JFA,
Barclay James Harvest,
Amazonics,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Tom Boy,
Fat Boys,
Half Japanese,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bronski Beat,
Warren Ellis,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.