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 India and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All Morten Harket tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nick Fraelich,
Juan Atkins,
Toni Rubio,
Matthew Halsall,
Leonard Cohen,
Sun Ra,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Magma,
Don Cherry,
Lou Christie,
Man Parrish,
Roger Hodgson,
The Toasters,
The Moleskins,
Infiniti,
The Golliwogs,
Marshall Jefferson,
Steve Hackett,
Average White Band,
Blake Baxter,
Prince Buster,
Masters at Work,
Eve St. Jones,
Stiv Bators,
Lower 48,
Minutemen,
Grandmaster Flash,
Swans,
Excepter,
The Flesh Eaters,
Absolute Body Control,
Lucky Dragons,
Can,
The Real Kids,
The Trojans,
Yellowson,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Neon Judgement,
Deadbeat,
Pylon,
Derrick May,
Lyres,
Radiopuhelimet,
New York Dolls,
The Happenings,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
JFA,
Michelle Simonal,
Index,
Wasted Youth,
Donny Hathaway,
Country Teasers,
The Smiths,
Wally Richardson,
Newcleus,
Mr. Review,
The Dirtbombs,
cv313,
Mark Hollis,
Heaven 17,
Franke,
Severed Heads,
Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton.
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.