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 Albania and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 arpeggiator 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Smog. All the underground hits.
All Country Joe & The Fish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Blues Magoos,
Janne Schatter,
Kevin Saunderson,
Colin Newman,
Sixth Finger,
Amon Düül II,
Surgeon,
Oblivians,
Avey Tare,
Lower 48,
Dual Sessions,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Dennis Brown,
Brand Nubian,
The Saints,
Funkadelic,
Liliput,
China Crisis,
the Sonics,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sex Pistols,
Wally Richardson,
The Techniques,
The Five Americans,
Arab on Radar,
The Slits,
PIL,
Black Flag,
Gang of Four,
Quantec,
The Neon Judgement,
U.S. Maple,
Sonny Sharrock,
Stereo Dub,
Joe Smooth,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Qualms,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Mad Mike,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Whodini,
Moby Grape,
Sunsets and Hearts,
OOIOO,
Vainqueur,
Japan,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Cure,
Brick,
Mars,
Mandrill,
Eden Ahbez,
Sandy B,
New Age Steppers,
Junior Murvin,
K-Klass,
FM Einheit,
Crash Course in Science,
Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths.
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.