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 United States and from Portland.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 U.S. Maple to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Mark Hollis. All the underground hits.
All Grey Daturas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Halsall record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Standells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mary Jane Girls,
Model 500,
Charles Mingus,
Fat Boys,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Maleditus Sound,
Shuggie Otis,
Dark Day,
The Gladiators,
Sandy B,
Vladislav Delay,
Scott Walker,
Leonard Cohen,
the Swans,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Gap Band,
Blossom Toes,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Birthday Party,
Aaron Thompson,
Suicide,
Sonny Sharrock,
The New Christs,
X-Ray Spex,
Glambeats Corp.,
Tears for Fears,
Eric B and Rakim,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
David Bowie,
Kevin Saunderson,
D'Angelo,
Rapeman,
Althea and Donna,
Animal Collective,
The Red Krayola,
Lou Christie,
Judy Mowatt,
Guru Guru,
The Evens,
a-ha,
Nico,
Minutemen,
The Sound,
The Selecter,
Scientists,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Cabaret Voltaire,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Shoche,
Index,
Wasted Youth,
John Holt,
The Divine Comedy,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Funky Four + One,
Grey Daturas,
Roy Ayers,
The Slackers,
The Associates,
T.S.O.L.,
Sex Pistols,
Drexciya,
Anakelly,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.