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 Kenya and from Winnipeg.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Camouflage 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 Scott Walker. All the underground hits.
All The Barracudas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every It's A Beautiful Day 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 a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a EPMD record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stiv Bators,
World's Most,
Cal Tjader,
These Immortal Souls,
Todd Terry,
Darondo,
The Dead C,
Lucky Dragons,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
In Retrospect,
Jesper Dahlback,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Little Man,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Bluetip,
Rakim,
Scion,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Fluxion,
Letta Mbulu,
Silicon Teens,
the Fania All-Stars,
Reagan Youth,
Sexual Harrassment,
K-Klass,
The Standells,
Ohio Players,
John Cale,
Curtis Mayfield,
Janne Schatter,
Jandek,
Wings,
Amazonics,
UT,
Freddie Wadling,
Supertramp,
Rites of Spring,
Dual Sessions,
Peter & Gordon,
Zapp,
Swans,
L. Decosne,
Traffic Nightmare,
Spandau Ballet,
Parry Music,
Anthony Braxton,
Bizarre Inc.,
Black Pus,
KRS-One,
Blossom Toes,
The Blues Magoos,
Brass Construction,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Slick Rick,
Grauzone,
The Angels of Light,
Royal Trux,
The Red Krayola,
Y Pants,
Josef K,
Theoretical Girls,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.