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 Mali and from Philadelphia.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 sitar 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 Soul Sonic Force to the grime 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 Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Second Layer,
Oblivians,
Babytalk,
The New Christs,
The Divine Comedy,
Sparks,
Duran Duran,
The Techniques,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Funky Four + One,
Japan,
F. McDonald,
The Selecter,
The Toasters,
the Slits,
Make Up,
The Move,
Kevin Saunderson,
Crispian St. Peters,
Goldenarms,
The Martian,
The Count Five,
World's Most,
Aural Exciters,
Dual Sessions,
Urselle,
Public Enemy,
New Order,
Sexual Harrassment,
Zapp,
Massinfluence,
Mandrill,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sonny Sharrock,
Eddi Front,
Roxette,
Panda Bear,
The Vogues,
Connie Case,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Monochrome Set,
Neil Young,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Eric Dolphy,
Rekid,
The Durutti Column,
Iggy Pop,
Roy Ayers,
Matthew Bourne,
Crash Course in Science,
Circle Jerks,
Lou Reed,
Moebius,
Drive Like Jehu,
Shoche,
The Walker Brothers,
Mantronix,
Talk Talk,
Bluetip,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Severed Heads,
The Flesh Eaters,
Can, Can, Can, Can.
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.