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 Slovenia 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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 harpsichord 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 Marc Almond to the techno 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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amazonics 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Music Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minny Pops,
Rites of Spring,
Eve St. Jones,
Bronski Beat,
Camouflage,
Eric Copeland,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
PIL,
Leonard Cohen,
Deadbeat,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ornette Coleman,
Guru Guru,
the Sonics,
Suburban Knight,
the Normal,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Skriet,
Yazoo,
Rod Modell,
Colin Newman,
Parry Music,
Bizarre Inc.,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bobby Byrd,
Eden Ahbez,
Avey Tare,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Trojans,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Music Machine,
Niagra,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
X-102,
The Electric Prunes,
Roxy Music,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Traffic Nightmare,
Susan Cadogan,
Amazonics,
Cal Tjader,
F. McDonald,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Joensuu 1685,
The Misunderstood,
John Coltrane,
Infiniti,
Nils Olav,
Subhumans,
Ultravox,
Robert Hood,
Terry Callier,
Skarface,
The Evens,
DJ Sneak,
the Fania All-Stars,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bobby Sherman,
Alton Ellis,
The Searchers,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.