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 Lesotho and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Crime. All the underground hits.
All Suicide tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Litter 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Reagan Youth,
Bauhaus,
Jawbox,
Marmalade,
Faraquet,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Mary Jane Girls,
Fad Gadget,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Cecil Taylor,
the Soft Cell,
Barbara Tucker,
Model 500,
Boredoms,
Thompson Twins,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sonic Youth,
In Retrospect,
Minor Threat,
Howard Jones,
Dead Boys,
Zero Boys,
The Wake,
The Pretty Things,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Royal Trux,
Isaac Hayes,
Derrick Morgan,
Outsiders,
Japan,
Peter and Kerry,
Ten City,
U.S. Maple,
Soft Cell,
The Index,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Unrelated Segments,
The Gories,
Chris Corsano,
Faust,
Donny Hathaway,
Audionom,
Q and Not U,
LL Cool J,
Slave,
Icehouse,
Quadrant,
Clear Light,
The Gladiators,
Marc Almond,
Joensuu 1685,
Kool Moe Dee,
the Germs,
Rapeman,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Martian,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Electric Prunes,
Roxette,
Glambeats Corp.,
Flipper, Flipper, Flipper, Flipper.
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.