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 Portugal and from Taipei.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the rock 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 Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers Ubiquity tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker + Sunn O))) record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
Brand Nubian,
Masters at Work,
Pantytec,
Dead Boys,
the Association,
Maleditus Sound,
Cecil Taylor,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Dark Day,
the Sonics,
Hot Snakes,
Gabor Szabo,
Soul Sonic Force,
Audionom,
Bang On A Can,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Cluster,
Joe Finger,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Sonics,
Scrapy,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lou Christie,
Johnny Clarke,
Gregory Isaacs,
June of 44,
Terry Callier,
Easy Going,
Mad Mike,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Cheater Slicks,
The Martian,
Eden Ahbez,
Roxette,
Babytalk,
Mr. Review,
Cameo,
Donny Hathaway,
The Monochrome Set,
Liliput,
Alison Limerick,
Glambeats Corp.,
Skarface,
Flipper,
Charles Mingus,
The United States of America,
Guru Guru,
Dawn Penn,
The Selecter,
Reuben Wilson,
The Barracudas,
Pagans,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Delon & Dalcan,
Harmonia,
The Monks,
Fatback Band,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Yaz,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Agitation Free,
The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras.
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.