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 Angola and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
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 The Black Dice to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sonny Sharrock. All the underground hits.
All Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vainqueur record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pylon,
Suicide,
The Monks,
Flamin' Groovies,
Avey Tare,
The Young Rascals,
Marc Almond,
Scott Walker,
Bobby Sherman,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The United States of America,
Essential Logic,
Nirvana,
Talk Talk,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ultravox,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
UT,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Pretty Things,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Boredoms,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Darondo,
Q65,
Guru Guru,
Pagans,
The Saints,
Camberwell Now,
The Last Poets,
The Move,
Pharoah Sanders,
DJ Sneak,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Maleditus Sound,
X-Ray Spex,
Arab on Radar,
The J.B.'s,
Rufus Thomas,
the Human League,
Bronski Beat,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Jacques Brel,
Echospace,
the Slits,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Dirtbombs,
The Vogues,
Fad Gadget,
The Grass Roots,
Crispy Ambulance,
Brand Nubian,
ABBA,
Wolf Eyes,
Henry Cow,
Infiniti,
Bobby Womack,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Dual Sessions,
John Holt,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.