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 Spain and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 arpeggiator 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 H. Thieme to the rap 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 Peter & Gordon. All the underground hits.
All Ultravox tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reagan Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Five Americans,
Stiv Bators,
The Neon Judgement,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
John Coltrane,
Arthur Verocai,
Khruangbin,
Sandy B,
Soul II Soul,
Aural Exciters,
Rhythm & Sound,
Jacob Miller,
The Fuzztones,
Rakim,
Desert Stars,
Negative Approach,
Swell Maps,
John Lydon,
The Detroit Cobras,
Nils Olav,
Bootsy Collins,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Offenders,
Marvin Gaye,
The Names,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Gastr Del Sol,
Nik Kershaw,
Banda Bassotti,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Rotary Connection,
Ultravox,
Mr. Review,
The Smoke,
Freddie Wadling,
June Days,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bronski Beat,
the Bar-Kays,
Be Bop Deluxe,
a-ha,
June of 44,
Mary Jane Girls,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Siglo XX,
Guru Guru,
Pole,
Goldenarms,
Hot Snakes,
Drexciya,
Circle Jerks,
The Golliwogs,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.