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 Saudi Arabia and from Johannesburg.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Anthony Braxton to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon. All the underground hits.
All The Mummies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Golliwogs,
Scientists,
Nick Fraelich,
Throbbing Gristle,
Eric Copeland,
Cluster,
Pharoah Sanders,
Neil Young,
Outsiders,
Alice Coltrane,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ultravox,
Suburban Knight,
The Associates,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Pole,
Metal Thangz,
Robert Wyatt,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Shadows of Knight,
Graham Central Station,
Cameo,
Judy Mowatt,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ten City,
Clear Light,
Lalo Schifrin,
Schoolly D,
The Fire Engines,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Jandek,
Rufus Thomas,
The Last Poets,
the Sonics,
Rapeman,
Albert Ayler,
Quantec,
Y Pants,
Arab on Radar,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Bad Manners,
Shoche,
Todd Terry,
Reagan Youth,
Wally Richardson,
Grandmaster Flash,
Audionom,
Sexual Harrassment,
Barry Ungar,
Ponytail,
Excepter,
Grey Daturas,
Marvin Gaye,
Traffic Nightmare,
Arcadia,
Bootsy Collins,
Nils Olav,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.