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 Chile and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 spring reverb 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 The Toasters to the techno 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 Surgeon. All the underground hits.
All Soft Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barry Ungar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Los Fastidios,
Parry Music,
The Trojans,
The Barracudas,
Popol Vuh,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Banda Bassotti,
Little Man,
David Axelrod,
Iggy Pop,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Tim Buckley,
The American Breed,
Barbara Tucker,
Michelle Simonal,
DJ Sneak,
The Real Kids,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bobby Byrd,
Donny Hathaway,
Prince Buster,
Pantaleimon,
Neu!,
Lightning Bolt,
Ponytail,
Underground Resistance,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lakeside,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Icehouse,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Martian,
Rapeman,
In Retrospect,
The Seeds,
Severed Heads,
Mad Mike,
Scratch Acid,
Newcleus,
B.T. Express,
Lalo Schifrin,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Raincoats,
MC5,
Gang Gang Dance,
Q and Not U,
Quando Quango,
X-Ray Spex,
Minny Pops,
Lindisfarne,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bill Near,
The Kinks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sixth Finger,
The Move,
Pantytec,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Gun Club,
The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins.
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.