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 Denmark and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Yazoo. All the underground hits.
All X-102 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Absolute Body Control 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Pole,
Surgeon,
the Swans,
The Gladiators,
Barry Ungar,
Eurythmics,
Country Teasers,
Faust,
Grandmaster Flash,
Minutemen,
Sonny Sharrock,
La Düsseldorf,
Kaleidoscope,
Lungfish,
Davy DMX,
The Durutti Column,
The Human League,
Juan Atkins,
The Music Machine,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Gong,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
John Holt,
The Invisible,
Minnie Riperton,
The Trojans,
8 Eyed Spy,
Wolf Eyes,
Can,
Drexciya,
Jeff Mills,
Black Pus,
Roxy Music,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Connie Case,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mo-Dettes,
Tim Buckley,
James White and The Blacks,
Hardrive,
Drive Like Jehu,
Brick,
Gastr Del Sol,
Underground Resistance,
The Neon Judgement,
The Sonics,
Sound Behaviour,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Star Department,
Don Cherry,
Aural Exciters,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
cv313,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jacques Brel,
Siglo XX,
Minny Pops,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.