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 Israel and from Sao Paulo.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Gladiators to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soulsonic Force 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Near record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
The Dirtbombs,
The Buckinghams,
Ornette Coleman,
New Age Steppers,
Patti Smith,
Nation of Ulysses,
Talk Talk,
Roger Hodgson,
The Golliwogs,
The Sonics,
the Slits,
Tears for Fears,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
T.S.O.L.,
Al Stewart,
Michelle Simonal,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Black Sheep,
Pole,
Anthony Braxton,
Gabor Szabo,
Iggy Pop,
Nas,
Barbara Tucker,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
La Düsseldorf,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Raincoats,
Adolescents,
Motorama,
Average White Band,
Scion,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Desert Stars,
Banda Bassotti,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sonic Youth,
Moby Grape,
Yusef Lateef,
Grandmaster Flash,
LL Cool J,
The Move,
Bobby Byrd,
Radiohead,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Monks,
Sunsets and Hearts,
the Fania All-Stars,
Flamin' Groovies,
Parry Music,
Laurel Aitken,
Juan Atkins,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Slackers,
Eric Dolphy,
Lower 48,
Fad Gadget,
Scott Walker,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band.
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.