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 Croatia and from Spokane.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the guitar 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 Second Layer to the rock 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Neu! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warsaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dorothy Ashby,
Severed Heads,
Au Pairs,
Peter and Kerry,
Max Romeo,
The Sound,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Intrusion,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Aural Exciters,
Electric Prunes,
Maleditus Sound,
Heaven 17,
Eurythmics,
Terrestrial Tones,
Andrew Hill,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Massinfluence,
The Fortunes,
Barry Ungar,
Clear Light,
The J.B.'s,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Essential Logic,
The Gories,
The Toasters,
Archie Shepp,
The Doobie Brothers,
New Age Steppers,
New York Dolls,
Wolf Eyes,
E-Dancer,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dark Day,
Inner City,
Henry Cow,
Eddi Front,
T. Rex,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
L. Decosne,
Magma,
Deakin,
Ken Boothe,
Juan Atkins,
John Holt,
8 Eyed Spy,
Unwound,
D'Angelo,
Bush Tetras,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Martian,
Swell Maps,
The Angels of Light,
Soulsonic Force,
Judy Mowatt,
The Durutti Column,
Mad Mike,
Television Personalities,
Stetsasonic,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.