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 Equatorial Guinea and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the oboe 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 Boredoms to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Pantaleimon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sight & Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks 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?
Oblivians,
Juan Atkins,
Aaron Thompson,
The Dead C,
The Monochrome Set,
Bob Dylan,
Peter & Gordon,
Hoover,
the Normal,
Hot Snakes,
Black Flag,
T. Rex,
Joy Division,
Audionom,
10cc,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sugar Minott,
Desert Stars,
Smog,
Joe Smooth,
Trumans Water,
Kerrie Biddell,
the Bar-Kays,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Quadrant,
Kenny Larkin,
Ituana,
Junior Murvin,
Scratch Acid,
Bobby Womack,
Liliput,
Vladislav Delay,
The Gladiators,
Chrome,
Steve Hackett,
Arcadia,
John Coltrane,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
In Retrospect,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Seeds,
Excepter,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Outsiders,
Throbbing Gristle,
Von Mondo,
Isaac Hayes,
Alison Limerick,
T.S.O.L.,
Gong,
Crispian St. Peters,
June of 44,
Jeff Mills,
Tres Demented,
Kas Product,
Lou Christie,
UT,
Magazine,
Crispy Ambulance,
Jerry's Kids,
Curtis Mayfield,
Jimmy McGriff,
Joey Negro,
Rotary Connection,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.