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 East Timor and from Houston.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Marc Almond to the dance 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 Ten City. All the underground hits.
All Main Source tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tim Buckley record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Parry Music,
Pylon,
LL Cool J,
The Buckinghams,
Roxy Music,
Albert Ayler,
Joensuu 1685,
Frankie Knuckles,
Erasure,
E-Dancer,
The Fuzztones,
Cecil Taylor,
Simply Red,
Sugar Minott,
The Gladiators,
The Martian,
Aswad,
The Saints,
Black Bananas,
Iggy Pop,
Eric Copeland,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Dirtbombs,
Ultravox,
The Evens,
The Music Machine,
Crime,
48th St. Collective,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ohio Players,
K-Klass,
Lungfish,
Suicide,
Anthony Braxton,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Newcleus,
Hardrive,
The Pop Group,
Skarface,
Lou Reed,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
D'Angelo,
A Flock of Seagulls,
MDC,
EPMD,
Skriet,
Blancmange,
Cybotron,
The Pretty Things,
Scrapy,
Quantec,
Chris & Cosey,
Wire,
The Index,
Funky Four + One,
Roger Hodgson,
Country Teasers,
The Sound,
Zero Boys,
Lightning Bolt,
Monolake,
June of 44,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.