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 Niger and from Woodstock.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Mummies 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 Gian Franco Pienzio. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minutemen 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Duran Duran record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jimmy McGriff,
the Normal,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Joy Division,
Whodini,
Rapeman,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Stetsasonic,
Babytalk,
Mission of Burma,
Cheater Slicks,
Marine Girls,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Byron Stingily,
Bluetip,
The Fortunes,
Unrelated Segments,
Ornette Coleman,
Carl Craig,
The J.B.'s,
Brass Construction,
Tears for Fears,
The Dead C,
Newcleus,
Soft Cell,
Bill Wells,
Warsaw,
X-Ray Spex,
Leonard Cohen,
The Happenings,
Peter & Gordon,
Nirvana,
The Electric Prunes,
cv313,
The Birthday Party,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Durutti Column,
Lindisfarne,
Gil Scott Heron,
Nas,
Livin' Joy,
Shuggie Otis,
Joe Finger,
The Gladiators,
Make Up,
Adolescents,
Sandy B,
Dave Gahan,
The Misunderstood,
Juan Atkins,
Intrusion,
The Busters,
Sonny Sharrock,
Slave,
Chris & Cosey,
Albert Ayler,
Radiohead,
The Offenders,
Man Parrish,
The Wake,
Tropical Tobacco,
Rekid,
Scratch Acid,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.