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 Uganda and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Holger Czukay 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 Radio Birdman to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kaleidoscope record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Neon Judgement record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Zeros,
Babytalk,
Echospace,
Essential Logic,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jeff Mills,
Tommy Roe,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Barracudas,
Girls At Our Best!,
Franke,
Accadde A,
Prince Buster,
T.S.O.L.,
F. McDonald,
These Immortal Souls,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Marshall Jefferson,
Rod Modell,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Stetsasonic,
The Gories,
Amon Düül II,
Grauzone,
Outsiders,
Henry Cow,
H. Thieme,
Swans,
Hoover,
Fad Gadget,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Pylon,
JFA,
Public Enemy,
Clear Light,
Sex Pistols,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Erasure,
World's Most,
Ralphi Rosario,
Andrew Hill,
Wasted Youth,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sexual Harrassment,
This Heat,
Freddie Wadling,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Procol Harum,
Cybotron,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Saccharine Trust,
Hardrive,
Frankie Knuckles,
Max Romeo,
Joe Finger,
Archie Shepp,
DJ Style,
Flash Fearless,
Stockholm Monsters,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Flipper,
Chris & Cosey,
Ten City,
The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground.
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.