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 Azerbaijan and from Spokane.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Buzzcocks to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Drive Like Jehu. All the underground hits.
All Delon & Dalcan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Archie Shepp record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cabaret Voltaire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultra Naté,
David Bowie,
Roger Hodgson,
Kayak,
Man Parrish,
Cheater Slicks,
MC5,
The Gun Club,
Dead Boys,
Gong,
Clear Light,
Silicon Teens,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Knickerbockers,
Bizarre Inc.,
Black Pus,
The Fugs,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Ultravox,
Barclay James Harvest,
cv313,
Todd Rundgren,
Negative Approach,
Arcadia,
Tears for Fears,
Black Flag,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Erasure,
The Red Krayola,
Gang Starr,
Fatback Band,
Suburban Knight,
the Fania All-Stars,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bobby Sherman,
Freddie Wadling,
Smog,
Barbara Tucker,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bootsy Collins,
Skarface,
Lindisfarne,
Supertramp,
Slave,
Anthony Braxton,
Howard Jones,
The Fuzztones,
Brick,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Boredoms,
The Seeds,
Pharoah Sanders,
Public Enemy,
Surgeon,
Man Eating Sloth,
Neil Young,
Depeche Mode,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jeff Mills,
Wasted Youth,
Model 500,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.