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 Kiribati and from Glasgow.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 New York Dolls to the crunk 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 Gregory Isaacs. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gap Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Television Personalities,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Mummies,
The Young Rascals,
JFA,
The Fire Engines,
Harry Pussy,
Camberwell Now,
Arcadia,
X-Ray Spex,
Q65,
Drexciya,
Urselle,
Lindisfarne,
The Grass Roots,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Peter & Gordon,
The Cure,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
MDC,
Lakeside,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Skatalites,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
ABBA,
Funky Four + One,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Maurizio,
Wire,
The Evens,
Bizarre Inc.,
Albert Ayler,
The Leaves,
Severed Heads,
Franke,
Tropical Tobacco,
Buzzcocks,
Accadde A,
Dave Gahan,
Pantytec,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Ludus,
Jeff Lynne,
Sarah Menescal,
Jerry's Kids,
Moebius,
The Residents,
Pussy Galore,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Scan 7,
Crispy Ambulance,
Blossom Toes,
Excepter,
Agitation Free,
Flash Fearless,
The Moleskins,
One Last Wish,
Stiv Bators,
Crash Course in Science,
DNA,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.