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 Burundi and from Beijing.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Madrid.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 LL Cool J to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lindisfarne,
The Red Krayola,
Echospace,
The Star Department,
Chris Corsano,
Tom Boy,
Jacques Brel,
Stereo Dub,
Pylon,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Mark Hollis,
The Real Kids,
The Motions,
Marcia Griffiths,
Jerry's Kids,
Roger Hodgson,
Malaria!,
Subhumans,
MDC,
Franke,
Wings,
Minnie Riperton,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bill Wells,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Buckinghams,
Intrusion,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Shoche,
Kaleidoscope,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Monochrome Set,
Quadrant,
Rapeman,
Y Pants,
Don Cherry,
Henry Cow,
Althea and Donna,
Scan 7,
Slave,
Symarip,
Cymande,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ice-T,
Little Man,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Derrick Morgan,
Steve Hackett,
The United States of America,
Country Teasers,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Buzzcocks,
Animal Collective,
Clear Light,
Davy DMX,
Fat Boys,
Sarah Menescal,
Albert Ayler,
Warsaw,
The Mummies,
Quando Quango, Quando Quango, Quando Quango, Quando Quango.
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.