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 Micronesia and from Accra.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Taipei.
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 linndrum 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 The Skatalites to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Scott Walker. All the underground hits.
All Pierre Henry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sixth Finger record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Scrapy,
Mr. Review,
Harry Pussy,
Interpol,
Public Enemy,
Dawn Penn,
Kaleidoscope,
Darondo,
Archie Shepp,
Ultravox,
Duran Duran,
Juan Atkins,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Evens,
Barbara Tucker,
Depeche Mode,
Unrelated Segments,
X-101,
Alton Ellis,
Moby Grape,
48th St. Collective,
Loose Ends,
Glenn Branca,
Heaven 17,
DJ Style,
The Monks,
Amon Düül II,
Skaos,
David McCallum,
Flash Fearless,
F. McDonald,
The Beau Brummels,
Mandrill,
Lebanon Hanover,
Henry Cow,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Funky Four + One,
The Skatalites,
Agent Orange,
Q65,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Joe Smooth,
Procol Harum,
Hardrive,
Silicon Teens,
the Soft Cell,
Bush Tetras,
Television Personalities,
Dorothy Ashby,
Marmalade,
Mary Jane Girls,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Smog,
Radio Birdman,
The Slackers,
Barry Ungar,
Ludus,
Minor Threat,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.