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 Korea South and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Jakarta.
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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Lightning Bolt to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Wolf Eyes. All the underground hits.
All a-ha tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nico record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Wells,
Japan,
Anakelly,
Juan Atkins,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Barry Ungar,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Trumans Water,
Erykah Badu,
Johnny Clarke,
the Sonics,
Black Pus,
Lou Reed,
B.T. Express,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Aaron Thompson,
The Velvet Underground,
Roger Hodgson,
The Names,
Nation of Ulysses,
Black Flag,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Magma,
Joe Smooth,
Mantronix,
Magazine,
AZ,
Harry Pussy,
David Bowie,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Black Bananas,
Mandrill,
Wasted Youth,
Amon Düül II,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ponytail,
10cc,
Simply Red,
Swans,
Wally Richardson,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Buzzcocks,
Lakeside,
Eurythmics,
Sugar Minott,
Franke,
Masters at Work,
Carl Craig,
Radiohead,
Con Funk Shun,
Pantaleimon,
Funky Four + One,
Joyce Sims,
Yazoo,
Wire,
Rekid,
Lalann,
the Germs,
Bush Tetras,
Gang Green,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Terrestrial Tones,
Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano.
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.