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 Argentina and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Spokane.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Frankie Knuckles to the jazz 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 Boredoms. All the underground hits.
All Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Walker Brothers,
The Monks,
June of 44,
The Index,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Toasters,
Swans,
Bush Tetras,
Sparks,
T. Rex,
Isaac Hayes,
Jeff Mills,
Public Enemy,
Lower 48,
Accadde A,
Byron Stingily,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Aswad,
Wasted Youth,
Quadrant,
the Sonics,
Thee Headcoats,
The J.B.'s,
Gang of Four,
Pere Ubu,
Buzzcocks,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Quando Quango,
Cheater Slicks,
Guru Guru,
Suburban Knight,
The Buckinghams,
Newcleus,
Janne Schatter,
Alison Limerick,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Shoche,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Adolescents,
B.T. Express,
F. McDonald,
Black Pus,
Quantec,
Kerri Chandler,
Howard Jones,
Siglo XX,
Cybotron,
Eve St. Jones,
Pussy Galore,
The Misunderstood,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Offenders,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Big Daddy Kane,
Dark Day,
Thompson Twins,
Black Moon,
Warren Ellis,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.