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 Qatar and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 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 Ice-T to the rap 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band. All the underground hits.
All Terry Callier tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Fraelich 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dawn Penn record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Joensuu 1685,
Terry Callier,
the Slits,
Tim Buckley,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Harry Pussy,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Joe Smooth,
The Victims,
Funky Four + One,
Angry Samoans,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Make Up,
The Electric Prunes,
Visage,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Loose Ends,
Animal Collective,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lalann,
Johnny Clarke,
Camberwell Now,
Brass Construction,
David Bowie,
Toni Rubio,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
DNA,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Detroit Cobras,
Young Marble Giants,
Barbara Tucker,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Rod Modell,
This Heat,
Banda Bassotti,
Franke,
Funkadelic,
Isaac Hayes,
Quantec,
B.T. Express,
Davy DMX,
Sun City Girls,
Chrome,
Mr. Review,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Kinks,
Connie Case,
Smog,
Barclay James Harvest,
Brick,
John Coltrane,
Tubeway Army,
Mantronix,
Moss Icon,
Stetsasonic,
Marshall Jefferson,
Little Man,
Eve St. Jones,
Goldenarms,
Skriet,
Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül.
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.