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 Georgia and from Salvador.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Cramps to the electroclash 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 Marine Girls. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lebanon Hanover record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispian St. Peters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
Mantronix,
Idris Muhammad,
Outsiders,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Glenn Branca,
Harry Pussy,
Steve Hackett,
Thompson Twins,
Liliput,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lightning Bolt,
Stiv Bators,
Leonard Cohen,
The Toasters,
Kevin Saunderson,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Fear,
Essential Logic,
The Buckinghams,
E-Dancer,
The Walker Brothers,
Bang On A Can,
Albert Ayler,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Robert Görl,
The Index,
Jacques Brel,
Jerry's Kids,
Archie Shepp,
Pagans,
Reuben Wilson,
John Cale,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Q and Not U,
Porter Ricks,
Eddi Front,
Spandau Ballet,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Hasil Adkins,
Wings,
The Blackbyrds,
Lou Reed,
Maurizio,
The Fugs,
Andrew Hill,
Lalann,
Deepchord,
Cheater Slicks,
Deakin,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Sonics,
Matthew Halsall,
The Monks,
The Martian,
LL Cool J,
Babytalk,
the Sonics,
ABC,
The J.B.'s,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.