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 Qatar and from Columbus.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Lalann to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Divine Comedy. All the underground hits.
All Isaac Hayes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers 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 '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 Echospace record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nick Fraelich,
The Birthday Party,
The Searchers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Boredoms,
Porter Ricks,
Slick Rick,
Joe Finger,
La Düsseldorf,
Interpol,
Yaz,
Lakeside,
Rites of Spring,
Mars,
The Detroit Cobras,
Harry Pussy,
Mandrill,
The Cure,
Motorama,
The Black Dice,
Wolf Eyes,
Alphaville,
Sight & Sound,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Gang of Four,
Junior Murvin,
Stiv Bators,
John Holt,
Gabor Szabo,
Scion,
Erasure,
Bill Wells,
Technova,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Steve Hackett,
The Invisible,
Bobby Womack,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Connie Case,
Arab on Radar,
Ohio Players,
The J.B.'s,
Monks,
Pere Ubu,
Swans,
Donny Hathaway,
Roy Ayers,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Goldenarms,
The Pretty Things,
Bootsy Collins,
Marmalade,
Glenn Branca,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Chris Corsano,
Lalann,
Das Ding,
Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd.
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.