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 Vanuatu and from Lagos.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Electric Prunes to the grime 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 New York Dolls. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rufus Thomas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arcadia record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
Eurythmics,
Man Eating Sloth,
Urselle,
Quadrant,
Pet Shop Boys,
Kaleidoscope,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Dawn Penn,
Todd Terry,
The Misunderstood,
Al Stewart,
Bang On A Can,
Deakin,
Drive Like Jehu,
JFA,
The Invisible,
Goldenarms,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
John Foxx,
Delta 5,
Traffic Nightmare,
Girls At Our Best!,
Young Marble Giants,
Blancmange,
The Fortunes,
Cal Tjader,
Franke,
Davy DMX,
The Last Poets,
FM Einheit,
Essential Logic,
Maurizio,
8 Eyed Spy,
Main Source,
The Angels of Light,
Los Fastidios,
Supertramp,
Henry Cow,
One Last Wish,
Agitation Free,
The Smoke,
Lyres,
Lindisfarne,
The Human League,
Con Funk Shun,
the Normal,
Bluetip,
Scrapy,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Byron Stingily,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lalann,
The J.B.'s,
Sugar Minott,
The Durutti Column,
Slave,
The Dirtbombs,
Desert Stars,
Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat.
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.