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 Saudi Arabia and from Manila.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 synthesizer 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 Bad Manners to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Swans. All the underground hits.
All The Golliwogs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unwound 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moss Icon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
Darondo,
Ronan,
Flash Fearless,
The Young Rascals,
Deepchord,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bang On A Can,
Niagra,
Arthur Verocai,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Underground Resistance,
MC5,
Kevin Saunderson,
Aaron Thompson,
Josef K,
Lalo Schifrin,
Flamin' Groovies,
Warren Ellis,
Maurizio,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Audionom,
Pussy Galore,
Graham Central Station,
Excepter,
Motorama,
Ken Boothe,
Eddi Front,
Black Bananas,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Marmalade,
Gregory Isaacs,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kaleidoscope,
The American Breed,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Gong,
Eric Dolphy,
Shoche,
Pulsallama,
Los Fastidios,
the Soft Cell,
The Divine Comedy,
Royal Trux,
Accadde A,
Terry Callier,
The Walker Brothers,
JFA,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Procol Harum,
Morten Harket,
Howard Jones,
Negative Approach,
Albert Ayler,
Swell Maps,
Neil Young,
ABBA,
Anakelly,
Nik Kershaw,
Bill Near,
Cymande,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.