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 Uruguay and from Spokane.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the snare 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 Lou Reed to the jazz 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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
ABC,
Drexciya,
Glenn Branca,
The Flesh Eaters,
Mission of Burma,
Neu!,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lyres,
Black Flag,
Man Parrish,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bauhaus,
The Index,
E-Dancer,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pantaleimon,
Chris Corsano,
Saccharine Trust,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Von Mondo,
The Moody Blues,
Organ,
Peter and Kerry,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Buckinghams,
Schoolly D,
Supertramp,
The Fall,
Ice-T,
The Last Poets,
Pierre Henry,
Television,
Pole,
Rosa Yemen,
The Busters,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Black Bananas,
Nirvana,
Roger Hodgson,
Subhumans,
Rapeman,
Radiopuhelimet,
Babytalk,
Glambeats Corp.,
Wasted Youth,
Stereo Dub,
The Martian,
ABBA,
James White and The Blacks,
Rufus Thomas,
Nas,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Young Marble Giants,
The Divine Comedy,
Jesper Dahlback,
Niagra,
Anthony Braxton,
The Names,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.