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 Panama and from Paris.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 snare 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 The Residents to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Accadde A. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Visage,
Don Cherry,
Q and Not U,
KRS-One,
PIL,
Sun City Girls,
The Last Poets,
Rekid,
The American Breed,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Radiohead,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Monochrome Set,
In Retrospect,
Marine Girls,
Roxy Music,
the Soft Cell,
Morten Harket,
Rakim,
Amon Düül II,
Lightning Bolt,
Jesper Dahlback,
Throbbing Gristle,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Camouflage,
The Walker Brothers,
Rosa Yemen,
Juan Atkins,
Panda Bear,
Mr. Review,
The Modern Lovers,
Ronan,
The New Christs,
Tommy Roe,
Lalo Schifrin,
Byron Stingily,
Infiniti,
Terrestrial Tones,
Technova,
Scion,
Bluetip,
Piero Umiliani,
Easy Going,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Scratch Acid,
8 Eyed Spy,
Eric Copeland,
The Velvet Underground,
Monks,
The Techniques,
Can,
Model 500,
Johnny Osbourne,
T.S.O.L.,
Freddie Wadling,
Dark Day,
Fat Boys,
Delon & Dalcan,
Scott Walker,
John Cale,
The Black Dice,
Ralphi Rosario,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.