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 East Timor and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the marimba 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All The Chocolate Watch Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Albert Ayler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David McCallum record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nico,
EPMD,
48th St. Collective,
Y Pants,
D'Angelo,
Aloha Tigers,
Eric Copeland,
Eve St. Jones,
Trumans Water,
Lee Hazlewood,
Magazine,
Carl Craig,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sugar Minott,
a-ha,
Toni Rubio,
Icehouse,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Roger Hodgson,
Yusef Lateef,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
James White and The Blacks,
Heaven 17,
Ornette Coleman,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Neon Judgement,
Siglo XX,
Jacques Brel,
Don Cherry,
Terry Callier,
Pagans,
Joey Negro,
The Modern Lovers,
Black Flag,
Harry Pussy,
Ultravox,
Agitation Free,
Khruangbin,
The Fugs,
The Index,
Josef K,
One Last Wish,
Tommy Roe,
Marine Girls,
Swans,
Cecil Taylor,
Index,
The Mojo Men,
Graham Central Station,
Derrick May,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ponytail,
Michelle Simonal,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Smoke,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Slick Rick,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.