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 Vietnam and from Sao Paulo.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Black Pus to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Andrew Hill. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
The Dirtbombs,
The Invisible,
Cecil Taylor,
Zero Boys,
Organ,
Boz Scaggs,
Connie Case,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Young Marble Giants,
Graham Central Station,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Suburban Knight,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Busters,
Brand Nubian,
Ornette Coleman,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Donald Byrd,
The New Christs,
CMW,
Index,
EPMD,
Aaron Thompson,
Panda Bear,
Japan,
Cluster,
Public Image Ltd.,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Joe Smooth,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Quantec,
Television,
Tomorrow,
Altered Images,
Banda Bassotti,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Gun Club,
The Durutti Column,
Flipper,
Tears for Fears,
Harmonia,
Reuben Wilson,
Rod Modell,
Khruangbin,
Swans,
Ultimate Spinach,
Althea and Donna,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mandrill,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Stiv Bators,
The Happenings,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Hashim,
Pole,
Scratch Acid,
Bob Dylan,
JFA,
Von Mondo,
The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges.
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.