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 Yemen and from Spokane.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the sitar 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 Spandau Ballet to the rock 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 The Modern Lovers. All the underground hits.
All Stetsasonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ponytail,
Girls At Our Best!,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Glenn Branca,
Jawbox,
Hardrive,
Quando Quango,
The Pretty Things,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Wake,
Goldenarms,
The Dead C,
The Offenders,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ten City,
Tres Demented,
Black Sheep,
Jandek,
Rapeman,
Todd Terry,
Tomorrow,
Agent Orange,
Sound Behaviour,
Peter & Gordon,
Lungfish,
Aloha Tigers,
Mark Hollis,
the Swans,
Oblivians,
The Cramps,
Soul Sonic Force,
Freddie Wadling,
Eli Mardock,
Suburban Knight,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Delta 5,
Moss Icon,
Warren Ellis,
Michelle Simonal,
Ronnie Foster,
Cecil Taylor,
The Music Machine,
Thee Headcoats,
The Blackbyrds,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Crooked Eye,
Minutemen,
Popol Vuh,
Junior Murvin,
CMW,
Agitation Free,
David McCallum,
The Mojo Men,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sight & Sound,
Scrapy,
Fugazi,
Kerri Chandler,
The American Breed,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.