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 Sudan and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Gerry Rafferty to the rap 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 Saccharine Trust. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Certain Ratio,
Duran Duran,
Organ,
Deepchord,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Bobby Byrd,
The Angels of Light,
These Immortal Souls,
The Searchers,
Rites of Spring,
Cecil Taylor,
Black Moon,
Fad Gadget,
Grey Daturas,
Soft Machine,
X-Ray Spex,
The Seeds,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Fania All-Stars,
Skriet,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Joyce Sims,
Cabaret Voltaire,
New Order,
U.S. Maple,
The Fortunes,
Minor Threat,
The Red Krayola,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Unwound,
Drive Like Jehu,
Aaron Thompson,
Cameo,
Yazoo,
Con Funk Shun,
Laurel Aitken,
The Vogues,
Agent Orange,
The Gun Club,
the Swans,
MC5,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Make Up,
Pulsallama,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Buckinghams,
Fela Kuti,
Prince Buster,
Glenn Branca,
Tomorrow,
Brass Construction,
Maurizio,
Roxette,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Stereo Dub,
Dennis Brown,
Bobby Sherman,
Jeru the Damaja,
Gregory Isaacs,
Spandau Ballet,
Morten Harket,
Andrew Hill,
Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach.
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.