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 Peru and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Intrusion to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Tom Boy. All the underground hits.
All DNA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pierre Henry,
Sarah Menescal,
Harry Pussy,
Moby Grape,
Mr. Review,
Glambeats Corp.,
The American Breed,
Supertramp,
Curtis Mayfield,
Kevin Saunderson,
Aswad,
Lindisfarne,
The Black Dice,
Man Parrish,
Ten City,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Johnny Osbourne,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ken Boothe,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Gap Band,
Eve St. Jones,
Terrestrial Tones,
Cymande,
The Alarm Clocks,
Brand Nubian,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Dual Sessions,
The Selecter,
Johnny Clarke,
Minor Threat,
Patti Smith,
The Wake,
Cameo,
Dark Day,
Accadde A,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Roger Hodgson,
FM Einheit,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Animal Collective,
Black Sheep,
Make Up,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sällskapet,
Al Stewart,
Brick,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Spoonie Gee,
Boredoms,
the Soft Cell,
Nico,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ronan,
Tomorrow,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Warsaw,
Hashim,
Tropical Tobacco,
Wolf Eyes,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Five Americans,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.