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 Iceland and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 linndrum 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 Doors to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers Ubiquity tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terry Callier record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fifty Foot Hose,
Babytalk,
The Associates,
Wally Richardson,
the Human League,
The Smiths,
Bang On A Can,
Symarip,
Pagans,
the Bar-Kays,
Nirvana,
Niagra,
ABBA,
The Fuzztones,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Pussy Galore,
Scion,
Amazonics,
Theoretical Girls,
The Cowsills,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
DNA,
Joe Smooth,
The Knickerbockers,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Alton Ellis,
Fatback Band,
Tim Buckley,
Excepter,
Minor Threat,
Mantronix,
Cybotron,
Alice Coltrane,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Five Americans,
Rakim,
Cluster,
The Leaves,
Parry Music,
the Fania All-Stars,
Harpers Bizarre,
Jacques Brel,
The Doors,
Colin Newman,
The Detroit Cobras,
Brass Construction,
kango's stein massive,
Faust,
Roger Hodgson,
Sister Nancy,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Gun Club,
Pierre Henry,
Al Stewart,
Ornette Coleman,
The Pop Group,
The Slits,
Black Moon,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Inner City,
Radio Birdman,
Sixth Finger,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.