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 Montenegro and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 mellotron 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All Clear Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cluster 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a EPMD record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Moby Grape,
Suburban Knight,
Bluetip,
cv313,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Last Poets,
Girls At Our Best!,
8 Eyed Spy,
Dorothy Ashby,
Absolute Body Control,
The Smoke,
Charles Mingus,
Fear,
Jerry's Kids,
The Knickerbockers,
Intrusion,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Cybotron,
Dawn Penn,
Skriet,
Howard Jones,
Dark Day,
La Düsseldorf,
Pierre Henry,
Minor Threat,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Saints,
Jacob Miller,
Desert Stars,
Don Cherry,
Scion,
Deepchord,
Au Pairs,
Mantronix,
Nico,
Panda Bear,
Can,
Blake Baxter,
Spoonie Gee,
Talk Talk,
Robert Wyatt,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Names,
the Association,
The Kinks,
Ohio Players,
Joy Division,
Lucky Dragons,
Reagan Youth,
Rufus Thomas,
Lungfish,
The Moleskins,
Massinfluence,
Eli Mardock,
The Slits,
The Alarm Clocks,
Crime,
Fluxion,
Flamin' Groovies,
Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd..
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.