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 Glasgow.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Newcleus to the jazz 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Popol Vuh,
Byron Stingily,
The New Christs,
Moebius,
Donny Hathaway,
Bobby Sherman,
L. Decosne,
Fluxion,
H. Thieme,
Graham Central Station,
Lungfish,
The Busters,
Eddi Front,
Aaron Thompson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
MC5,
Vladislav Delay,
Ultravox,
Infiniti,
Sarah Menescal,
John Holt,
Jeff Mills,
The Last Poets,
Tommy Roe,
Vainqueur,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pharoah Sanders,
Supertramp,
The Slackers,
Blossom Toes,
The Electric Prunes,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Cymande,
Desert Stars,
The Kinks,
The Blackbyrds,
Fat Boys,
The Leaves,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Gang of Four,
Terry Callier,
Davy DMX,
Circle Jerks,
Newcleus,
John Coltrane,
Marine Girls,
Scrapy,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Clear Light,
kango's stein massive,
The Detroit Cobras,
Joyce Sims,
The Offenders,
Boz Scaggs,
Marvin Gaye,
David Bowie,
James Chance & The Contortions,
This Heat,
Maurizio,
Tom Boy,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.