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 Rwanda and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
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 Chris Corsano to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sister Nancy. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
The Monochrome Set,
the Bar-Kays,
June Days,
Fela Kuti,
Liliput,
These Immortal Souls,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Henry Cow,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Gun Club,
Scion,
The Music Machine,
Kaleidoscope,
Subhumans,
Fear,
Mo-Dettes,
Mark Hollis,
Hardrive,
The Barracudas,
Bobby Byrd,
Oneida,
The Cowsills,
The Electric Prunes,
The Skatalites,
Jawbox,
The Modern Lovers,
Sparks,
Yaz,
Whodini,
Public Image Ltd.,
Infiniti,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Rites of Spring,
Black Sheep,
Aural Exciters,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Five Americans,
Hot Snakes,
Eric Copeland,
Man Eating Sloth,
Amon Düül II,
The Count Five,
Q65,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Young Marble Giants,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Fatback Band,
Donald Byrd,
Schoolly D,
Surgeon,
Sex Pistols,
Underground Resistance,
Niagra,
Pulsallama,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
T.S.O.L.,
The Young Rascals,
Make Up,
Albert Ayler,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Slick Rick,
Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord.
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.