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 Iraq and from Delhi.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the guitar 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 Archie Shepp to the techno 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Intrusion 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rites of Spring,
Franke,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Tom Boy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Boz Scaggs,
The Techniques,
Animal Collective,
Bronski Beat,
Jeru the Damaja,
Hot Snakes,
Kenny Larkin,
Unrelated Segments,
The Vogues,
Gang Starr,
Camberwell Now,
Laurel Aitken,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Jeff Lynne,
Motorama,
Pantytec,
Thee Headcoats,
Fort Wilson Riot,
E-Dancer,
Morten Harket,
The Neon Judgement,
Moss Icon,
Wolf Eyes,
Bush Tetras,
Lindisfarne,
Kool Moe Dee,
Brick,
Sparks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Fugs,
Sam Rivers,
The Star Department,
Quantec,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Nas,
Interpol,
Mission of Burma,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Scientists,
The Count Five,
The Electric Prunes,
Traffic Nightmare,
Section 25,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Dirtbombs,
Dennis Brown,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Mojo Men,
Brothers Johnson,
Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry.
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.