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 Mexico and from Spokane.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Monolake 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 Make Up. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Rites of Spring,
Jacques Brel,
Flamin' Groovies,
Rapeman,
Anakelly,
Tommy Roe,
Scan 7,
Television,
A Flock of Seagulls,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Angels of Light,
Ludus,
Echospace,
Shoche,
These Immortal Souls,
Lou Christie,
Cameo,
Lungfish,
The Electric Prunes,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Fugs,
the Sonics,
Swell Maps,
Barclay James Harvest,
Aloha Tigers,
Danielle Patucci,
Black Flag,
The New Christs,
The Busters,
The Music Machine,
T.S.O.L.,
Sonny Sharrock,
Josef K,
Gang Starr,
Bronski Beat,
Mandrill,
Joyce Sims,
Radio Birdman,
Wasted Youth,
Japan,
Bob Dylan,
The Mummies,
Derrick Morgan,
John Cale,
Y Pants,
Pet Shop Boys,
MDC,
Colin Newman,
The Martian,
Wire,
Sister Nancy,
Panda Bear,
Brick,
Thompson Twins,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Offenders,
Tom Boy,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mark Hollis,
Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd.
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.