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 Croatia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 The Happenings to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Nik Kershaw. All the underground hits.
All The Chocolate Watch Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 spring reverb and a synthesizer 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 clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Can,
Avey Tare,
48th St. Collective,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sexual Harrassment,
Royal Trux,
the Slits,
Supertramp,
Johnny Osbourne,
Siglo XX,
Magma,
The New Christs,
Parry Music,
Pulsallama,
Camouflage,
Letta Mbulu,
Porter Ricks,
Terrestrial Tones,
Minutemen,
Colin Newman,
The Flesh Eaters,
Adolescents,
Juan Atkins,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sonic Youth,
Young Marble Giants,
Index,
Jesper Dahlback,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Doobie Brothers,
OOIOO,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Unwound,
Vladislav Delay,
Heaven 17,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Mandrill,
Wolf Eyes,
Marvin Gaye,
Crispian St. Peters,
Animal Collective,
Dark Day,
Scott Walker,
Jimmy McGriff,
Deakin,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Suicide,
The Raincoats,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Oblivians,
Maurizio,
Circle Jerks,
Mantronix,
Kenny Larkin,
Schoolly D,
Arab on Radar,
Bauhaus,
Saccharine Trust,
June Days,
Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus.
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.