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 Kazakhstan and from Calgary.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 synthesizer 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 Crispy Ambulance to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All John Foxx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Names record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Public Image Ltd.,
Tim Buckley,
Aural Exciters,
Throbbing Gristle,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ituana,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Deakin,
JFA,
Radio Birdman,
Eve St. Jones,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Black Sheep,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Slick Rick,
The Techniques,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bobby Womack,
Steve Hackett,
Harmonia,
Zero Boys,
Leonard Cohen,
Darondo,
Althea and Donna,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bobby Byrd,
Glenn Branca,
Danielle Patucci,
The Blues Magoos,
The Moleskins,
Roxy Music,
Ornette Coleman,
The Gladiators,
Funkadelic,
The Fortunes,
Mary Jane Girls,
Alton Ellis,
The Standells,
Desert Stars,
Circle Jerks,
Janne Schatter,
The Gories,
Chris Corsano,
Nico,
Anthony Braxton,
World's Most,
Sugar Minott,
Khruangbin,
UT,
Absolute Body Control,
Al Stewart,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Heaven 17,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Modern Lovers,
Television,
Man Parrish,
X-Ray Spex,
Andrew Hill,
the Bar-Kays,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.