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 Papua New Guinea and from Portland.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Neon Judgement to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Fugazi. All the underground hits.
All Pantytec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Electric Prunes 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mary Jane Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
Deepchord,
Wally Richardson,
Khruangbin,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
These Immortal Souls,
Albert Ayler,
Wire,
Goldenarms,
Sparks,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lindisfarne,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sonic Youth,
Cybotron,
Rod Modell,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Bill Wells,
Television Personalities,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Standells,
Wasted Youth,
Mad Mike,
Buzzcocks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Iggy Pop,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Raincoats,
Laurel Aitken,
Mo-Dettes,
Brass Construction,
the Swans,
Alphaville,
Big Daddy Kane,
Funky Four + One,
Television,
Radio Birdman,
Unwound,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ultravox,
The Zeros,
Dual Sessions,
Sun City Girls,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sly & The Family Stone,
T.S.O.L.,
Blake Baxter,
F. McDonald,
Sarah Menescal,
The Smiths,
Ituana,
Al Stewart,
Robert Hood,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Index,
Jesper Dahlback,
Derrick Morgan,
Babytalk,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ten City,
Delta 5,
The Young Rascals,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.