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 Bangladesh and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Oneida to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Rhythm & Sound. All the underground hits.
All The Residents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gabor Szabo,
John Holt,
The Fuzztones,
The Wake,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Organ,
Bobby Womack,
Mr. Review,
U.S. Maple,
The Saints,
The Tremeloes,
Underground Resistance,
The Trojans,
Man Eating Sloth,
Make Up,
Maleditus Sound,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Standells,
Lucky Dragons,
Trumans Water,
June of 44,
the Normal,
Marshall Jefferson,
Symarip,
Scion,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rhythm & Sound,
Crash Course in Science,
Bush Tetras,
Ossler,
Minor Threat,
Yazoo,
Alice Coltrane,
Sam Rivers,
Black Pus,
Wolf Eyes,
Matthew Bourne,
Excepter,
Parry Music,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Howard Jones,
Echospace,
Index,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Misunderstood,
Popol Vuh,
Severed Heads,
Section 25,
Public Enemy,
Aloha Tigers,
Cymande,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Reuben Wilson,
Lower 48,
Lightning Bolt,
Minny Pops,
Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson.
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.