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 Kyrgyzstan and from Salvador.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 KRS-One to the jazz 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 Surgeon. All the underground hits.
All The Durutti Column tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
Junior Murvin,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
MDC,
Andrew Hill,
Ronnie Foster,
Swans,
Severed Heads,
Electric Prunes,
Rufus Thomas,
Matthew Bourne,
The Durutti Column,
Minor Threat,
AZ,
Rites of Spring,
Glambeats Corp.,
FM Einheit,
Fatback Band,
Roxy Music,
the Slits,
Funky Four + One,
Crooked Eye,
Eve St. Jones,
Theoretical Girls,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Minutemen,
The Grass Roots,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Jeru the Damaja,
Eddi Front,
Cecil Taylor,
Gang Gang Dance,
Easy Going,
Robert Görl,
Lalann,
John Cale,
Lyres,
Gang Green,
10cc,
Scott Walker,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Aural Exciters,
The Five Americans,
Gong,
Lightning Bolt,
Animal Collective,
Moss Icon,
the Human League,
Talk Talk,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Khruangbin,
Con Funk Shun,
Harmonia,
Fad Gadget,
The Busters,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Clear Light,
The Cramps,
Amon Düül,
Nick Fraelich,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe.
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.