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 Georgia and from Calgary.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Bologna.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Shuggie Otis to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All Thee Headcoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Count Five record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
Theoretical Girls,
Bobby Byrd,
Scientists,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Icehouse,
Bootsy Collins,
The Angels of Light,
X-101,
Toni Rubio,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
John Lydon,
Can,
Eve St. Jones,
Yellowson,
Fluxion,
the Soft Cell,
Grauzone,
Shoche,
Smog,
Nas,
The American Breed,
Index,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Cluster,
David Axelrod,
Godley & Creme,
Iggy Pop,
Bauhaus,
Marcia Griffiths,
Rites of Spring,
H. Thieme,
The Residents,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ultimate Spinach,
Khruangbin,
Byron Stingily,
Jesper Dahlback,
Fela Kuti,
Robert Görl,
Idris Muhammad,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lungfish,
Amazonics,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Urselle,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Boz Scaggs,
Curtis Mayfield,
Davy DMX,
Traffic Nightmare,
Johnny Clarke,
Jimmy McGriff,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Matthew Bourne,
Hardrive,
Eden Ahbez,
Laurel Aitken,
The Wake,
Franke,
Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters.
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.