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 Australia and from Bologna.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Bremen.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Sparks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Audionom 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sonny Sharrock,
The American Breed,
Ken Boothe,
Index,
Warsaw,
Von Mondo,
Johnny Osbourne,
Blancmange,
Terrestrial Tones,
Desert Stars,
Nation of Ulysses,
Hoover,
Buzzcocks,
Adolescents,
The Last Poets,
The Monks,
KRS-One,
The Slackers,
L. Decosne,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jerry's Kids,
Radiohead,
Marshall Jefferson,
Barry Ungar,
Sun City Girls,
Massinfluence,
Darondo,
Andrew Hill,
The Remains,
Stetsasonic,
Negative Approach,
Newcleus,
Average White Band,
The Sonics,
The Mojo Men,
Pylon,
The Birthday Party,
Johnny Clarke,
PIL,
Y Pants,
The Monochrome Set,
Gang Starr,
Aaron Thompson,
Roger Hodgson,
Swans,
David McCallum,
A Certain Ratio,
Iggy Pop,
Minny Pops,
Kaleidoscope,
Joe Finger,
Icehouse,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Nico,
John Coltrane,
Roxette,
Althea and Donna,
Reuben Wilson,
James White and The Blacks,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.