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 Colombia and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Iggy Pop to the electroclash 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 Livin' Joy. All the underground hits.
All In Retrospect tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Girls At Our Best!,
The Techniques,
Juan Atkins,
The Stooges,
Gang Gang Dance,
Hasil Adkins,
Pet Shop Boys,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
A Certain Ratio,
The Modern Lovers,
Sexual Harrassment,
Joyce Sims,
Newcleus,
the Sonics,
Charles Mingus,
Connie Case,
Kayak,
the Swans,
Harry Pussy,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
the Soft Cell,
Arab on Radar,
Supertramp,
Terry Callier,
Shuggie Otis,
The Dirtbombs,
Henry Cow,
The Star Department,
Electric Light Orchestra,
John Foxx,
Tomorrow,
Slave,
The Busters,
Roger Hodgson,
Sam Rivers,
The Alarm Clocks,
Erasure,
Prince Buster,
Jerry Gold Smith,
New Order,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
One Last Wish,
E-Dancer,
Peter & Gordon,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
ABC,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Smiths,
Young Marble Giants,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
JFA,
Index,
Goldenarms,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gang Starr,
ABBA,
Banda Bassotti,
Con Funk Shun,
Loose Ends,
the Human League,
Radio Birdman,
Vainqueur,
Bauhaus,
The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras.
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.