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 Jordan and from Delhi.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Angels of Light to the rap 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 The Gun Club. All the underground hits.
All Lee Hazlewood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Leonard Cohen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Talk Talk,
Juan Atkins,
The Blackbyrds,
Banda Bassotti,
Agent Orange,
Radiohead,
The Sound,
Kerrie Biddell,
Mandrill,
The Durutti Column,
Franke,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bush Tetras,
Popol Vuh,
Technova,
Clear Light,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sex Pistols,
Saccharine Trust,
Black Moon,
Negative Approach,
Howard Jones,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Five Americans,
Wings,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marmalade,
the Bar-Kays,
The Pretty Things,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Country Teasers,
China Crisis,
JFA,
Guru Guru,
Amazonics,
Girls At Our Best!,
Man Parrish,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Panda Bear,
Nas,
The Martian,
Livin' Joy,
Stereo Dub,
The Mummies,
Kerri Chandler,
Yaz,
The Associates,
X-102,
Lebanon Hanover,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
PIL,
Peter and Kerry,
Soft Cell,
Bronski Beat,
the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.