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 Cambodia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 London and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 marimba 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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the grime 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 Lower 48. All the underground hits.
All Eric Dolphy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scan 7 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Scott Walker,
Accadde A,
Minor Threat,
Intrusion,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ronan,
The Busters,
The Cowsills,
The Fortunes,
Albert Ayler,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Smog,
Junior Murvin,
Wire,
Malaria!,
Sister Nancy,
Moby Grape,
MC5,
Scientists,
Adolescents,
Ornette Coleman,
Alison Limerick,
Second Layer,
Warsaw,
Circle Jerks,
Maleditus Sound,
Susan Cadogan,
Bill Wells,
Donald Byrd,
Aloha Tigers,
Gong,
Idris Muhammad,
Althea and Donna,
Dark Day,
The Flesh Eaters,
Inner City,
Harry Pussy,
Livin' Joy,
AZ,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ituana,
The New Christs,
The Young Rascals,
Vladislav Delay,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Leaves,
Moebius,
U.S. Maple,
Fugazi,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Kool Moe Dee,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Velvet Underground,
LL Cool J,
Easy Going,
Joe Finger,
Yazoo,
The Remains,
Man Parrish,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones.
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.