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 Barbados and from Houston.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Sarah Menescal to the grunge 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All Rites of Spring tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q65,
Magazine,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Cluster,
Fad Gadget,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Y Pants,
Alton Ellis,
Minny Pops,
The Red Krayola,
Jandek,
Los Fastidios,
Black Pus,
Barclay James Harvest,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Velvet Underground,
Loose Ends,
The Slackers,
Rotary Connection,
Young Marble Giants,
Mission of Burma,
Khruangbin,
Jacob Miller,
Aloha Tigers,
Livin' Joy,
Crispian St. Peters,
ABC,
Subhumans,
Silicon Teens,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
DNA,
Warren Ellis,
The Slits,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Dirtbombs,
the Bar-Kays,
John Cale,
The Flesh Eaters,
Erykah Badu,
Juan Atkins,
Bluetip,
Sällskapet,
Erasure,
The Birthday Party,
The Last Poets,
The Residents,
The Invisible,
Sixth Finger,
Severed Heads,
The Motions,
Royal Trux,
Popol Vuh,
Kurtis Blow,
The Five Americans,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
MDC,
The Music Machine,
Derrick May,
Con Funk Shun,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.