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 Equatorial Guinea and from Stockholm.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Jimmy McGriff to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All Popol Vuh tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Young Rascals 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jawbox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Laurel Aitken,
Graham Central Station,
Juan Atkins,
Harmonia,
Kevin Saunderson,
Glenn Branca,
Lungfish,
Symarip,
Can,
Loose Ends,
The Leaves,
Clear Light,
Jeff Lynne,
John Cale,
Soft Machine,
Camberwell Now,
Smog,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Wire,
Section 25,
Derrick May,
Prince Buster,
Dual Sessions,
B.T. Express,
Q65,
Y Pants,
Avey Tare,
The Motions,
Michelle Simonal,
Cecil Taylor,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rites of Spring,
The Associates,
Yellowson,
Eli Mardock,
Gerry Rafferty,
John Holt,
John Coltrane,
Marine Girls,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Minutemen,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Stooges,
Al Stewart,
Barclay James Harvest,
Public Image Ltd.,
Soul Sonic Force,
DJ Sneak,
Panda Bear,
Reuben Wilson,
Henry Cow,
Eurythmics,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jawbox,
Man Eating Sloth,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Marvin Gaye,
The Monochrome Set,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Buzzcocks,
Sandy B,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs.
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.