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 Egypt and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 chamberlin 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Graham Central Station. All the underground hits.
All The Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oneida record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a La Düsseldorf record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maurizio,
Sam Rivers,
Hardrive,
Depeche Mode,
Man Eating Sloth,
Country Teasers,
James White and The Blacks,
Black Pus,
Popol Vuh,
Max Romeo,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sun Ra,
Deepchord,
The Beau Brummels,
Loose Ends,
Maleditus Sound,
It's A Beautiful Day,
F. McDonald,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Barrington Levy,
Kevin Saunderson,
Skarface,
The Dave Clark Five,
Terrestrial Tones,
Avey Tare,
Television Personalities,
The Blues Magoos,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Procol Harum,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ossler,
Soft Machine,
Howard Jones,
Bob Dylan,
Hasil Adkins,
Aswad,
Model 500,
Ice-T,
Black Moon,
June of 44,
Skriet,
The Tremeloes,
Pylon,
Deakin,
Barclay James Harvest,
Shuggie Otis,
Barry Ungar,
The Pretty Things,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Rapeman,
David Axelrod,
Scientists,
Monolake,
Tom Boy,
Tears for Fears,
Clear Light,
Reagan Youth,
DJ Sneak,
Animal Collective,
Brothers Johnson,
The Gun Club,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.