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 Botswana and from Seoul.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Pagans to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Style record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Albert Ayler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ash Ra Tempel,
UT,
The Invisible,
OOIOO,
Procol Harum,
T. Rex,
Livin' Joy,
June Days,
Yellowson,
T.S.O.L.,
Moss Icon,
Gang of Four,
Minutemen,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Doobie Brothers,
Public Enemy,
A Certain Ratio,
Neil Young,
Arthur Verocai,
Boredoms,
The Smiths,
Peter and Kerry,
Fluxion,
Black Moon,
Ralphi Rosario,
Talk Talk,
The Electric Prunes,
Slave,
Malaria!,
Jerry's Kids,
Guru Guru,
Desert Stars,
Jandek,
Archie Shepp,
Gregory Isaacs,
Ohio Players,
Whodini,
The Kinks,
Brass Construction,
The Divine Comedy,
Radio Birdman,
Audionom,
Byron Stingily,
Rod Modell,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Severed Heads,
Black Flag,
Qualms,
Supertramp,
Youth Brigade,
Moby Grape,
Aural Exciters,
Skarface,
Marvin Gaye,
the Association,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pierre Henry,
Freddie Wadling,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
the Germs,
Deepchord,
Glenn Branca,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.