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 Benin and from Delhi.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Cairo.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Lightning Bolt to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marine Girls,
Rosa Yemen,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Cluster,
Bobby Sherman,
Kas Product,
Interpol,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Durutti Column,
Hoover,
Darondo,
the Bar-Kays,
The Wake,
Avey Tare,
Outsiders,
Derrick May,
Sun City Girls,
Kenny Larkin,
New York Dolls,
Gang of Four,
Ken Boothe,
Max Romeo,
Von Mondo,
Scratch Acid,
Tres Demented,
Desert Stars,
OOIOO,
Arab on Radar,
Monolake,
EPMD,
Blake Baxter,
Toni Rubio,
Grauzone,
The Leaves,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bronski Beat,
John Cale,
The Five Americans,
Robert Hood,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Shoche,
Wings,
The Alarm Clocks,
Stereo Dub,
The Searchers,
Soul II Soul,
Moebius,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Tropical Tobacco,
E-Dancer,
Swell Maps,
Prince Buster,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Angry Samoans,
The Neon Judgement,
Ten City,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Monochrome Set,
Hardrive,
Yellowson,
Rod Modell, Rod Modell, Rod Modell, Rod Modell.
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.