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 Pakistan and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 Bremen and Lille.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Crispy Ambulance to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Jacob Miller. All the underground hits.
All Ash Ra Tempel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anthony Braxton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gastr Del Sol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Zeros,
The Cowsills,
Harry Pussy,
Curtis Mayfield,
Qualms,
Minutemen,
Siglo XX,
Blossom Toes,
A Certain Ratio,
Lightning Bolt,
Davy DMX,
Yaz,
Scrapy,
John Coltrane,
Animal Collective,
Hasil Adkins,
Jeff Mills,
Nas,
the Soft Cell,
Robert Görl,
Drive Like Jehu,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Fat Boys,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Dirtbombs,
Kayak,
the Fania All-Stars,
Patti Smith,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Barrington Levy,
Young Marble Giants,
Interpol,
Trumans Water,
Gang Gang Dance,
the Slits,
F. McDonald,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Dave Clark Five,
Man Eating Sloth,
June of 44,
The Doobie Brothers,
Tears for Fears,
Von Mondo,
Guru Guru,
Symarip,
Main Source,
The Beau Brummels,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Fugazi,
Organ,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Residents,
Mr. Review,
The Motions,
Babytalk,
Pole,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Scientists,
Neu!, Neu!, Neu!, Neu!.
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.