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 Fiji and from Shanghai.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Shanghai.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the guitar 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 Grauzone to the grunge 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 The Index. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drexciya 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Freddie Wadling record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sixth Finger,
the Swans,
the Slits,
Isaac Hayes,
Kaleidoscope,
The Techniques,
Cal Tjader,
Joe Finger,
The Moody Blues,
Ohio Players,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Last Poets,
Dave Gahan,
ABC,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sparks,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Mr. Review,
L. Decosne,
Malaria!,
Fluxion,
Skriet,
MDC,
The Sonics,
Fad Gadget,
Yusef Lateef,
Johnny Clarke,
Neu!,
Monolake,
Guru Guru,
U.S. Maple,
Pole,
Pylon,
Yellowson,
Das Ding,
Groovy Waters,
Ornette Coleman,
Rhythm & Sound,
Black Sheep,
Trumans Water,
Underground Resistance,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Popol Vuh,
Jawbox,
Schoolly D,
The Birthday Party,
Section 25,
Lyres,
Tom Boy,
Moebius,
the Bar-Kays,
John Cale,
Camberwell Now,
Surgeon,
Letta Mbulu,
Matthew Bourne,
Sugar Minott,
Donny Hathaway,
Joyce Sims,
Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic.
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.