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 Iraq and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 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 Black Flag to the funk 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jandek record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
Amazonics,
Y Pants,
Franke,
New York Dolls,
The Birthday Party,
The Evens,
the Soft Cell,
Von Mondo,
X-102,
Adolescents,
MC5,
Quantec,
John Foxx,
Pantaleimon,
ABBA,
Audionom,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Severed Heads,
Rosa Yemen,
Aloha Tigers,
The Young Rascals,
The Beau Brummels,
Bob Dylan,
Soft Machine,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Young Marble Giants,
48th St. Collective,
Lou Christie,
Livin' Joy,
Suicide,
Supertramp,
Hot Snakes,
Pole,
The Skatalites,
The Smiths,
Sixth Finger,
Jawbox,
Gabor Szabo,
Ken Boothe,
Bootsy Collins,
The Black Dice,
Sun City Girls,
Black Bananas,
Model 500,
Kas Product,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Clear Light,
Oblivians,
Can,
Terry Callier,
The Move,
Television Personalities,
Rotary Connection,
L. Decosne,
The Red Krayola,
the Association,
Pere Ubu,
Throbbing Gristle,
Reuben Wilson,
The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers.
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.