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 Trinidad & Tobago and from New York.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Wasted Youth to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Jeff Lynne. All the underground hits.
All Rahsaan Roland Kirk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fugs 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang on a Can All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Bar-Kays,
Slave,
Intrusion,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Pop Group,
The Raincoats,
Surgeon,
Bronski Beat,
The Martian,
Shuggie Otis,
Pole,
The New Christs,
Masters at Work,
Lindisfarne,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ludus,
Ronnie Foster,
The Shadows of Knight,
Aloha Tigers,
Derrick May,
Kerri Chandler,
the Human League,
Stetsasonic,
The Slits,
John Holt,
The Stooges,
Niagra,
Jerry Gold Smith,
David McCallum,
Popol Vuh,
Tres Demented,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Urselle,
48th St. Collective,
Man Parrish,
Qualms,
Ultravox,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Thompson Twins,
Lucky Dragons,
Section 25,
Ornette Coleman,
Terry Callier,
The Sonics,
Malaria!,
New York Dolls,
Dorothy Ashby,
Oblivians,
The Blackbyrds,
Mo-Dettes,
Flash Fearless,
The Slackers,
Yellowson,
Swell Maps,
Tommy Roe,
Smog,
The Young Rascals,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Real Kids,
Ituana,
B.T. Express,
Q65, Q65, Q65, Q65.
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.