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 Dominican Republic and from Johannesburg.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Fear to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Jeff Mills. All the underground hits.
All The Motions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thee Headcoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
Alice Coltrane,
The Misunderstood,
Skarface,
Masters at Work,
X-102,
Neu!,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bang On A Can,
The Searchers,
Camberwell Now,
Joy Division,
Skaos,
The Star Department,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Joe Smooth,
Los Fastidios,
Sun Ra,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Roger Hodgson,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Blackbyrds,
David Bowie,
Blake Baxter,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Fortunes,
Mad Mike,
Ronnie Foster,
Jacob Miller,
Oneida,
Bob Dylan,
Soft Machine,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Terry Callier,
Pere Ubu,
Lyres,
D'Angelo,
Absolute Body Control,
Bootsy Collins,
Monolake,
Section 25,
a-ha,
Robert Görl,
Royal Trux,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
In Retrospect,
the Sonics,
Gang Green,
Alison Limerick,
The Birthday Party,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Motorama,
Gastr Del Sol,
Porter Ricks,
Glambeats Corp.,
Radio Birdman,
Throbbing Gristle,
Icehouse,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Crispy Ambulance,
Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest.
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.