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 Eritrea and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Paris.
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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Lou Reed to the funk 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 Maurizio. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Country Teasers,
Jeff Lynne,
B.T. Express,
Lakeside,
Donald Byrd,
Magma,
Main Source,
The Golliwogs,
New York Dolls,
The Mummies,
Marine Girls,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Leaves,
La Düsseldorf,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Jandek,
Sister Nancy,
The Pop Group,
Average White Band,
Aswad,
Blancmange,
Au Pairs,
Ossler,
ABC,
The Star Department,
Urselle,
Guru Guru,
New Age Steppers,
Royal Trux,
These Immortal Souls,
Nik Kershaw,
Kas Product,
Joensuu 1685,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Isaac Hayes,
Pulsallama,
Janne Schatter,
Jeff Mills,
Wally Richardson,
Darondo,
Harry Pussy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pagans,
Wings,
Deakin,
Patti Smith,
the Sonics,
Kerrie Biddell,
Dawn Penn,
The Happenings,
U.S. Maple,
Ice-T,
The Index,
The Last Poets,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sonic Youth,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
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.