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 Andorra and from Taipei.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Jerry Gold Smith to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Be Bop Deluxe. All the underground hits.
All Josef K tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane 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 harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
Bill Wells,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Shuggie Otis,
Desert Stars,
Avey Tare,
Cluster,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Mary Jane Girls,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Skriet,
John Coltrane,
Arthur Verocai,
Minutemen,
Sun City Girls,
Mars,
Sixth Finger,
Neu!,
Siglo XX,
Sandy B,
The Stooges,
The Sisters of Mercy,
E-Dancer,
Surgeon,
The Dirtbombs,
Al Stewart,
Marc Almond,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Davy DMX,
Suicide,
Roxette,
Bobby Byrd,
Harpers Bizarre,
Glenn Branca,
Easy Going,
Swans,
Terrestrial Tones,
Monolake,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Scion,
Yellowson,
Fad Gadget,
Susan Cadogan,
Pharoah Sanders,
Marcia Griffiths,
Spoonie Gee,
Joe Smooth,
Arab on Radar,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Mark Hollis,
The Real Kids,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Fall,
The Gladiators,
KRS-One,
Cymande,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Television,
Dead Boys,
Echospace, Echospace, Echospace, Echospace.
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.