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 Azerbaijan and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Popol Vuh to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All kango's stein massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deakin,
Franke,
The Fortunes,
John Lydon,
Joe Finger,
La Düsseldorf,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rufus Thomas,
Severed Heads,
Boogie Down Productions,
Swell Maps,
The Beau Brummels,
Peter & Gordon,
Girls At Our Best!,
T. Rex,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Gun Club,
Leonard Cohen,
Chrome,
Radio Birdman,
Visage,
Fear,
Todd Rundgren,
Pylon,
Andrew Hill,
Das Ding,
48th St. Collective,
Barrington Levy,
The Monks,
Monks,
Newcleus,
The Fugs,
Dark Day,
Wally Richardson,
Cecil Taylor,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Arab on Radar,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Skarface,
The Mojo Men,
Sam Rivers,
Gerry Rafferty,
New Order,
Byron Stingily,
Reagan Youth,
Sarah Menescal,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Chris Corsano,
Moby Grape,
Television Personalities,
The Remains,
X-Ray Spex,
Avey Tare,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
James White and The Blacks,
Bootsy Collins,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
LL Cool J,
The Stooges,
These Immortal Souls,
Sixth Finger,
Quadrant,
Alice Coltrane,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.