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 Namibia and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the punk 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 Television. All the underground hits.
All Camberwell Now tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Prunes 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cecil Taylor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Crime,
MC5,
The Wake,
Gabor Szabo,
Royal Trux,
Ornette Coleman,
The Happenings,
Black Bananas,
Severed Heads,
Harmonia,
Alison Limerick,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Minny Pops,
Pere Ubu,
Unrelated Segments,
Boredoms,
Echospace,
The Red Krayola,
Roxy Music,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Standells,
Gichy Dan,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Blues Magoos,
The Toasters,
The J.B.'s,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Boz Scaggs,
Traffic Nightmare,
Dawn Penn,
Brick,
cv313,
Das Ding,
Ultimate Spinach,
Cal Tjader,
Tom Boy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bizarre Inc.,
Johnny Clarke,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Newcleus,
Motorama,
Grauzone,
ABC,
Donald Byrd,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Grandmaster Flash,
Absolute Body Control,
Connie Case,
Goldenarms,
Masters at Work,
Barbara Tucker,
Soft Machine,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Index,
Terry Callier,
Ten City,
Glenn Branca,
Erasure,
Aaron Thompson,
Freddie Wadling,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.