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 Micronesia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Glambeats Corp. to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Eric Dolphy. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Circle Jerks 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Blossom Toes,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Henry Cow,
Lightning Bolt,
The Walker Brothers,
Inner City,
Black Pus,
Minor Threat,
One Last Wish,
Johnny Clarke,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Michelle Simonal,
Sun Ra,
Mary Jane Girls,
A Certain Ratio,
The Raincoats,
Mars,
Y Pants,
Gang of Four,
The Flesh Eaters,
Donny Hathaway,
Scrapy,
Gastr Del Sol,
Patti Smith,
Fatback Band,
Alison Limerick,
The Black Dice,
The Wake,
Soulsonic Force,
Mandrill,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Heaven 17,
Scratch Acid,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Cecil Taylor,
Pantytec,
Lyres,
Blancmange,
Prince Buster,
Lucky Dragons,
Hoover,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sound Behaviour,
Warsaw,
Porter Ricks,
The Misunderstood,
Bad Manners,
Altered Images,
Sight & Sound,
Minny Pops,
Los Fastidios,
X-Ray Spex,
Terrestrial Tones,
Negative Approach,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.