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 Brazil and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 theremin 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 Bobby Sherman to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Johnny Clarke. All the underground hits.
All Nik Kershaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 güiro and a harpsichord 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 snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Faraquet,
Stetsasonic,
Camouflage,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
the Human League,
The Slackers,
The Names,
Mandrill,
Porter Ricks,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Glambeats Corp.,
Rod Modell,
Black Sheep,
Scan 7,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tommy Roe,
Con Funk Shun,
Tim Buckley,
Archie Shepp,
Television,
The Smoke,
The American Breed,
Das Ding,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
China Crisis,
The Barracudas,
D'Angelo,
Malaria!,
Spandau Ballet,
Jacques Brel,
H. Thieme,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Visage,
Jandek,
Khruangbin,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sarah Menescal,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bizarre Inc.,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Real Kids,
Parry Music,
Soul Sonic Force,
Q and Not U,
Average White Band,
Todd Terry,
June of 44,
Smog,
Letta Mbulu,
Black Flag,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Bluetip,
Lyres,
Yazoo,
Subhumans,
the Normal,
Derrick May,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.