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 Swaziland and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Germs to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Fela Kuti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
La Düsseldorf,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Sound,
The Fall,
Boredoms,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Black Flag,
Aural Exciters,
Eve St. Jones,
Sam Rivers,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Gregory Isaacs,
Stiv Bators,
Nico,
Cybotron,
Zero Boys,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Yaz,
Man Parrish,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Cure,
Radiopuhelimet,
Crooked Eye,
Robert Görl,
Banda Bassotti,
Suicide,
Bobby Sherman,
Wally Richardson,
Urselle,
Babytalk,
Ice-T,
The Doobie Brothers,
Howard Jones,
Grauzone,
Lightning Bolt,
The Saints,
Altered Images,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Curtis Mayfield,
Marmalade,
Dorothy Ashby,
the Association,
Whodini,
Tim Buckley,
Gang Green,
Flipper,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bootsy Collins,
The Invisible,
Sonny Sharrock,
Hoover,
Juan Atkins,
Stereo Dub,
Scratch Acid,
Lower 48,
Roxette,
The Birthday Party,
Michelle Simonal,
Boogie Down Productions,
Scientists, Scientists, Scientists, Scientists.
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.