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 Malaysia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Scrapy to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Ash Ra Tempel. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terry Callier record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Yellowson,
Lou Christie,
Rekid,
T.S.O.L.,
Barbara Tucker,
Warsaw,
Sister Nancy,
Ice-T,
Stereo Dub,
Duran Duran,
Ken Boothe,
Half Japanese,
The Toasters,
The Five Americans,
The J.B.'s,
Jacob Miller,
Robert Görl,
Average White Band,
Alison Limerick,
Supertramp,
Cal Tjader,
Pierre Henry,
Amon Düül,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lou Reed,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Dirtbombs,
Gerry Rafferty,
John Coltrane,
Faraquet,
Panda Bear,
Maurizio,
Sandy B,
Bad Manners,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Neil Young,
Andrew Hill,
Zapp,
Man Parrish,
R.M.O.,
Wasted Youth,
Jeff Lynne,
Gabor Szabo,
James White and The Blacks,
The Star Department,
Bobby Byrd,
AZ,
Tres Demented,
Danielle Patucci,
Lower 48,
Throbbing Gristle,
Camouflage,
The Modern Lovers,
Sun City Girls,
The Smoke,
Trumans Water,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.