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 Nigeria and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the grunge 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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Sonics 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 mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Standells,
Chrome,
Tropical Tobacco,
Lalann,
Ken Boothe,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Fortunes,
The Kinks,
Jawbox,
Silicon Teens,
Panda Bear,
The Durutti Column,
Wally Richardson,
Pere Ubu,
Suicide,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Todd Rundgren,
Main Source,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Slave,
Bob Dylan,
Cecil Taylor,
Tommy Roe,
Nick Fraelich,
The Moleskins,
Mars,
Rhythm & Sound,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Searchers,
Amon Düül,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sight & Sound,
Alton Ellis,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Eurythmics,
The Cure,
Hardrive,
The Gun Club,
Matthew Bourne,
The Birthday Party,
The Monks,
Urselle,
PIL,
Neil Young,
Faraquet,
Amazonics,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Arthur Verocai,
Peter and Kerry,
Jeff Mills,
Electric Prunes,
Black Pus,
Q65,
Tom Boy,
The Pretty Things,
Warsaw,
John Coltrane,
Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre.
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.