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 Botswana and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 güiro 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 Fatback Band to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vladislav Delay record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Intrusion,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Danielle Patucci,
Bill Near,
Faraquet,
Black Moon,
Infiniti,
The Remains,
Freddie Wadling,
Pussy Galore,
Kas Product,
Gong,
The Grass Roots,
Young Marble Giants,
Man Eating Sloth,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Oneida,
the Bar-Kays,
Henry Cow,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Accadde A,
The Blues Magoos,
Camberwell Now,
The Saints,
Symarip,
Underground Resistance,
Ossler,
Talk Talk,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Anakelly,
Bob Dylan,
Terrestrial Tones,
Barrington Levy,
Tubeway Army,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bootsy Collins,
Adolescents,
Vladislav Delay,
Gil Scott Heron,
Prince Buster,
Can,
Byron Stingily,
The Barracudas,
Tropical Tobacco,
Joe Finger,
The Fire Engines,
Boredoms,
The Gories,
Jandek,
Joey Negro,
Quadrant,
These Immortal Souls,
The Monks,
Tres Demented,
Moebius,
Rod Modell,
The Tremeloes,
Animal Collective,
Radiohead,
Thee Headcoats,
Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett.
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.