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 Paraguay and from Delhi.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Jimmy McGriff. All the underground hits.
All Deakin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Grass Roots record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lalo Schifrin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Organ,
The Gun Club,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Nick Fraelich,
Deadbeat,
Gong,
The Angels of Light,
Grandmaster Flash,
Sun Ra,
The Last Poets,
Deakin,
Lucky Dragons,
Jandek,
The Gories,
Patti Smith,
The United States of America,
Desert Stars,
The Pop Group,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Traffic Nightmare,
Urselle,
Swell Maps,
Lakeside,
The Vogues,
Gang Green,
DJ Sneak,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Busters,
Sparks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Mummies,
Black Moon,
Charles Mingus,
Procol Harum,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Michelle Simonal,
Sister Nancy,
The New Christs,
Erykah Badu,
Sonny Sharrock,
Josef K,
Lower 48,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Doors,
New York Dolls,
Scrapy,
Electric Prunes,
Sun City Girls,
Minnie Riperton,
The Misunderstood,
Gerry Rafferty,
Joey Negro,
Excepter,
Animal Collective,
Dark Day,
Monolake,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.