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 Colombia and from Lille.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 snare 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the rock 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 Connie Case. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
CMW,
MDC,
Donald Byrd,
Crispian St. Peters,
8 Eyed Spy,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Eric Dolphy,
The Durutti Column,
The Selecter,
Livin' Joy,
Ten City,
Michelle Simonal,
Sparks,
Ituana,
The Angels of Light,
Erasure,
Babytalk,
Boz Scaggs,
The Doors,
U.S. Maple,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lower 48,
The Zeros,
The Fugs,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Real Kids,
Radiohead,
Make Up,
Parry Music,
Pole,
Glambeats Corp.,
Fear,
The Martian,
Jandek,
New Order,
48th St. Collective,
Rosa Yemen,
Accadde A,
Jesper Dahlback,
Aural Exciters,
Magma,
the Soft Cell,
Pantytec,
Pagans,
Sister Nancy,
Eli Mardock,
Outsiders,
The Dave Clark Five,
Bootsy Collins,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Q and Not U,
Tim Buckley,
Tom Boy,
Robert Wyatt,
New Age Steppers,
Sun Ra,
Prince Buster,
Second Layer,
Lou Christie,
The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats.
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.