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 Bahrain and from Johannesburg.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Stockholm.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 The Index to the disco 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 In Retrospect. All the underground hits.
All Urselle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Accadde A record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
Flamin' Groovies,
the Swans,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sun City Girls,
Loose Ends,
Procol Harum,
Electric Prunes,
Todd Terry,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Easy Going,
Jerry's Kids,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Brick,
Angry Samoans,
Gang Green,
Andrew Hill,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Young Marble Giants,
Piero Umiliani,
D'Angelo,
Nirvana,
The Smoke,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Slits,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Boz Scaggs,
X-Ray Spex,
OOIOO,
Shuggie Otis,
David Axelrod,
The Red Krayola,
Theoretical Girls,
Saccharine Trust,
Ossler,
Eric B and Rakim,
June of 44,
The Names,
Cymande,
Masters at Work,
Yellowson,
Hot Snakes,
Amon Düül II,
Robert Hood,
Glambeats Corp.,
Juan Atkins,
the Soft Cell,
Fat Boys,
The Durutti Column,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
8 Eyed Spy,
Skarface,
Suicide,
Black Moon,
Icehouse,
Camouflage,
Bronski Beat,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ronnie Foster,
Silicon Teens,
Rites of Spring,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Simply Red,
Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight.
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.